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With what delight did Rousseau repose upon the memory of Switzerland! And with what rapture did Petrarch behold his native country, from the sides of Mount Genevre ; when, in the enthusiasm of the moment, he vowed, that he would never quit it again. One of the most touching passages, in Dante, is that, in which he represents Count Guido Montefeltro,-suffering the punishment of those, who had misapplied their talents,—as, on suddenly hearing the voice of a newly arrived spirit speak in the Tuscan language, hailing amid sighs and tears the sweet accents of his native dialecta. In another passage the very name of Mantua awakes the flame of love and concord, in the midst of faction and civil outrage, in the bosom of Sordello b.
This native affection is not confined to men : beasts, birds, and even fishes, having frequently been observed to present instances of it. The lion loses much of his strength, when taken from his native haunts: and Josephus relates, that Abgarus took several foreign beasts into the arena at Rome, and placed earths, which were brought from their native soils, in detached places ; when every beast ran to the earth, that belonged to his country. Pliny the Naturalist, does not mention this instance ; and it would, therefore, not be unwise to pause, before its truth is admitted ; but it would be still more presumptuous to entirely deny the fact. There is a species of lobster, also, which has a remarkable affection for the rocks of its nativity ; hence, when carried several miles out to sea, it will, if thrown into the water, seldom fail to return to the place, in which it was spawned.
The rook, the blackbird, and the redbreast are extremely partial to their early haunts; and swallows frequently return
Etiam animalia consuetâ societate privata, nonnunquam deperiunt, et ex pullis amissis etiam lutræ maris Kamtschadalensis. Sic ex amore frustrato lenta et insanabilis consumptio sequitur, quod Angli cor ruptum vocant.”-HALLER, Elem. Physiol. xvii. sect. ii. s. 5.
a Inferno, cant. xxvii, st. 4. b) Inferno, cant. vi, st. 24-5-6.
to the very nests, they had constructed the year before. The Ciconia of the Ardea genus, a bird of passage which subsists on snakes, toads and other reptiles, returns in spring like swallows, not only to the same country, but frequently to the same house. The pigeon has a still more extraordinary quality. When let loose, it rises to a vast height: and being, like the bee and the wasp, endued with an instinct, of which man knows nothing, reaches its home; though, when carried thence, it had no means of ascertaining the route for its return. It is said to fly forty miles in an hour and a half : and Thevenot assures us, that pigeons of this breed fly from Aleppo to Alexandria in six hours !
Of all ages of society, the hunting age is that, which enjoys the love of country least. This is illustrated by the examples of the Goths, Vandals, Huns, and Heruli. The next is that of commerce ;-enterprise frequently leading men to forsake a country, to which they are seldom permitted to return., “England ! with all thy faults, I love thee still.” ;, Yes! Thou art “ the greatest and the best of all the main !”. A country, whose peasantry are free men, and entitled to the benefit of wise laws ;-whose merchants are princes; and whose nobles—with all their consequence and privilege--surpass all the nobles of the world. The country of freedom, industry, science, and of virtue. The land of Alfred, Bacon, Shakspeare, Milton ;-of Hampden, of Sidney, and of Russel ; -of Newton, Boyle, Herschel, and Lancaster. Yes!
“Thou art the greatest, and the best of all the main !"
And may those, who would by force, by influence, or by craftur convert thy free men into slaves, be the brothers of slaves, the companions of slaves, the servants of slaves ! .:.:.
. Of all the passions, which derive additional force from scenery, none experiences a greater accession than LOVE;—that noble feeling of the heart, which Plato calls “ an interposition of the Gods in behalf of the young :" A passion celebrated by all, yet truly felt by few. “Dost thou know, what the nightingale said to me?" says a Persian poet; “ what sort of a man art thou, that canst be ignorant of love ?” Rather would I enquire, “ what sort of a man art thou, that canst be capable of love ?" Since, though of all the passions it is the most productive of delight, it is the most unfrequent of them all. How many of us feel the passions of hatred and revenge, of envy and desire, every day! But how few of us are capable of feeling an ardent affection, or of conceiving an elevated pagsion! That was not love, which Mahomet felt for Irene ; Titus for Berenice ; Catullus for Lesbia ; or Horace for Lydia : and though Anacreon is never weary of boasting his love, the gay, the frantic Anacreon never felt a wound. Homer, however, was sensible of all the delicacy of affection; and he paints the difference, alluded to, in the examples of Helen and Paris ; and Hector and Andromache; while he makes even the savage Achilles alive to the purity of honourable passion :
The wife, whom choice and passion do approve, .
Sure every wise and worthy man will love ! Euripides, too,—the poet of the heart,—declares, that love would of itself induce us to adore a deity, even in a country, peopled by atheists. But the Greeks, generally speaking, were almost as much strangers to legitimate love, as the barbarians, they affected to despise. The passion of Sappho was nothing but an ungovernable fever of desire ; though the fragment, she has left, has been so long, so often, and so widely celebrated, that the world imagines she was the essence of VOL. 11.
love! As a poem it has been unjustly celebrated ; (it i may venture to differ from so celebrated a critic as Longinusa ;) because it has been celebrated, far beyond its merits : and even as a faithful picture of desire, it has nothing to compare with a poem of Jayadeva. “ The palms of her hands support her aching temples, pale as the crescent rising at eve. ;'Heri ! Heri !' thus she meditates on thy name, as if she-were gratified ; and she were dying through thy absence. She rends her locks ; she pants ; she laments inarticulately; she trembles ; she pines ; she moves from place to place ; she closes her eyes ; she rises again ; she faints! In such a fever of love, she may live, oh ! celestial physician, if thou administer the remedy ; but shouldst thou be unkind, her malady will be desperate."
Heron has preserved an Indian song, translated by a Catabà Indian, who had acquired the English language at Williamsburg, more simple ; but far more affecting to the mind and heart. “ I was walking in the shade of a grove in the morning dew. I met my fancy. She talked with her smiling lips to me. I gave her no answer. She bade me speak out my mind : " Bashful face spoils good intent.' That cheered my heart. But when my love is yone from my side, then my heart faints, and is low.”
Terence paints affection in the scene between Pamphilus and Glycera :—and when Phædria is taking leave of his mistress, how natural are his exhortations. « Love me by day and by night; but when you are in the society of that soldier, seem as if you were absent. Dream of me; expect me; think of me; hope for me; take delight in remembering me ; let me always be in your imagination; and let me reign in your soul, as you reign in mine.a”. The picture of Jayadeva, it is true, is drawn with force and with all the wild irregularity of the passion itself; but what has desire to do with the passion of love ?—that mild and elegant affection, which sinks the deepest where it shows itself the least : that curiosa felicitas of the heart, which can animate only the wise, the elegant, and the virtuous. Read the ode of Sappho, and the fragment of Jayadeva, my Lelius, again and again, and tell me if you are half so agreeably attracted to their merits, as to those of the following beautiful indication of elevated attachment? The feeling, which this exquisite morceau expresses, must be felt by every woman, who aspires to the passion of love, or the name of love is prostituted, and its character libelled.
a. It is astonishing, that not only Longinus, but Addison and Du Bos, have fallen into this illegitimate enthusiasm. One would really suppose, that none of them could, by any implication, have known the occasion on which this celebrated ode was written !
by Cum milite isto præsens, absens ut sies ;
Go, youth belov'd, in distant glades
New friends, new hopes, new joys, to find;
To think on her thou leav'st behind.
Must never be my happy lot;
Forget me not-forget me not.
Yet should the thought of my distress
Too painful to thy feelings be,
Nor ever deign to think on me.
If want, if sickness, be thy lot ;
Forget me not-forget me not.—Mrs. Opie.
Animated with an affection like this, the earth with all its inconveniences, is a paradise ; even when toiling through the parched deserts of Lybia, the solitudes of the Ohio, or the frozen wastes of Lapland a.
I love the memory of Mr. Pitt on many accounts. He was an unfortunate statesman, it is true ; but he had a lofty elo
a " Sic amor contorquet caput nostrum,” says a Lapland poet, “ mutat cogitationes et sententias. Puerorum voluntas, voluntas venti; juvenum cogitationes, longe cogitationes.”—Schefferi Lapponica, cap. xxv.