wrongs he had received, collected a numerous fleet and army, with which they invaded Britain, and, giving battle to the husbands of their unjust and unnatural sisters, vanquished their forces and slew them on the field; by which event Lear was restored to his throne, and after a second reign of two years, died at Leicester, a city which he had himself founded, and was there interred, leaving his crown and kingdom to Cordelia.

Shakspeare, in his celebrated tragedy on the story of Lear, has taken great liberties with this simple tale, as it is recorded in the chronicles; and although he has adorned the passion of grief in the character of the insane old king with some of the finest strokes of pathetic poetry, it may be questioned if he has at all improved the fable by representing Cordelia as defeated and slain in the battle, and her father dying of sorrow over her body. He had, in fact, exhausted the expressions of grief before the catastrophe, and ought to have refrained from drawing more on the sympathy of his audience. Justice required that Gonorilla and Regan should be punished, and the poet offends by the issue that he has given to their crimes.

The interest which the filial piety of the amiable Princess Cordelia has justly excited, constitutes a ciaim on us to relate her story subsequent to her accession to the British throne. It is not always in this world that virtue is rewarded; although in the delightful consciousness of endea vouring to do our duty, there is a sweeter recompense than any act of man, or approbation of contemporaries, can bestow.

For the space of five years after her accession to the throne, Cordelia ruled the country with great prosperity and renown; but her husband, Aganippus, dying in the meantime, her two nephews, Cunedag and Margan, the sons of Gonorilla and Regan, having grown to man's estate, began to speak contemptuously of her rule, and to disdain their subjection to the government of a woman. The bad, in all ages, will ever find adherents, and the turbulent partizans. The seditious speeches of these princes, worthy of their unworthy parents, soon had the effect of gathering together the remnants of that faction who had sanctioned the ill-treatment of Lear, and of bringing other

factious characters to abet their designs. The standard of revolt was, in consequence, reared, and in the first conflict the army of Cordelia was routed, and herself taken prí soner. She knew too well the evil hearts of her nephews; how much also all their adherents were her enemies, for the ill that they had done to herself in her unhappy days; and she was sensible that when they committed her to close imprisonment, it was to concert the means of treating her with still greater ignominy. In a word, having no children of her own, her husband dead, and all the pleasures of life cut off, she deemed it no longer worthy to live; and, with that rude heroism which in those pagan ages rendered selfslaughter in such circumstances honourable, she slew herself in prison, rather than live to be degraded by any act of that malevolence which her enemies cherished against her.

LINES WRITTEN FOR THE ALBUM OF A LADY.

BY D. SHINE LAWLOR.

My silent harp hangs by the wall,

The night-wind o'er its silk strings breathing,
Forgetful of that time, when all

Its chords, their own sweet music wreathing,
Over the minstrel's burning biow

Glow'd with a strain more full than they can now.

My harp has ceas'd that voice of

song
Which heaven, in other season, gave;
And the proud note that wak'd the throng
Of pleasure, whispers o'er the grave,
Making a mystic darkness come

Over the heart, with most engrossing gloom.

Even I could sing of elder years,

When knighthood wav'd its fiery plume,

And the red glare of gather'd spears

Shone in the blaze of beauty's bloom,

Glittering in glory, 'neath the eyes

Whose fond, blue softness, smil'd the warrior's prize.

And it were meet for me to tell

Of many a tale by flood and field;

Of war and battle, and the spell

That maidens weave round soldier's shield; Of the green hill, and lordly tower,

Where the pale moonlight drops on tree and flower.

I could in Arab gardens roam,

Peopled with children from that land,
Where fays and peris have their home-
In Allah's clime, an airy band-
And pure, and fair, and rich, I ween,
Should be the phantom monarchs of the scene.

And love! oh! holy, holy sound,

Pouring deep music on the heart; Whose boiling blood hath ever found

The rapture, which thy dreams impart : Yes! I could sit by stream or river,

And tell thy tales of fear and hope for ever!

And I could dream that once again

I gaz'd upon my

brow,

Feeding the madness of my brain

With her young eyes' enchanting glow; And the ripe lip, and the rose cheek,

Their burst of feeling once again should speak.

Yet, why should I profane the page

With thoughts of most unholy fire?

Rather, let wisdom's cold of age

Breathe its dull warnings from this lyre:

Whose fancies, all too warm and wild,
Should never dwell among the undefil'd.

I know thee not; yet, lady, fain
Would think thee all that poets frame,
Making the picture of the brain

Shadow'd by fancy's brush of flame,
And clothing this young cheek and hair
With all earth has of beautiful and fair.

A

Lady! I would this harp of mine 36
Had aught to soothe thy gentle mind;
That, votive, at thy fond heart's shrine,

It should not fade upon the wind;
But, dwelling in thy maiden's breast,
In its eternity be bright and bless'd!

THE GALLERY OF FINE ARTS.

Under the above title we have now before us one of the most attractive, and, considering its price, one of the most elegant works which this age of art has produced. The volume just completed contains thirty-three very spirited engravings after Sir Thomas Lawrence, and many of the greatest of the Royal Academicians; as well as after several other painters who are equally deserving popularity. Added to these are a few from the old masters, as well as from some of the greatest of the living foreign schools, including Scheffer, Delaroche, and Destouches. The interest attached to each is much enhanced by the "song or story" appended: these are from a great variety of pens, from Moore and Campbell down to our own Dr. Mackenzie and Miss Beevor. Altogether, the Gallery of Fine Arts is likely to enjoy all the popularity which its great diversity of talent, both in Art and Literature, deservedly entitle it to. As we cannot transfer a copy of its plates to our pages, we shall content ourselves by extracting the two following pieces of poetry, not, however, presuming to adjudge them as the best which the volume contains

66 EARLY PIETY: BY WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.

"Is it not sweet to see

The brow of childhood brightened with the love
Which comes, in purity,

From the rich fountain of delight above?
Which cannot fail or die, and knows no end-
Bestowed in ceaseless gifts, and by a deathless friend?

"And is it not a joy,

From balmy lips the word of prayer to hear,

The spirits best employ,

Like music melting on the enchanted ear:

To note the early journeyings of the soul,

Up to its source and home, beyond the world's controul?

"To mark the yielding heart
Turn from the blandishments of earth and time,
To choose" the better part,"-

A treasure, all unsullied and sublime,
Beyond the stain of death, or blight of sin,
Which pours upon the soul a flood of rapture in ?

"How fair, when life is new,

On youth's soft cheek the blooming roses lie!
Then, to the ardent view

All scenes are lovely, and delight the eye;

Each pulse is novel in the happy breast,

And with a slumber light the evening couch is press'd,

"Then o'er the earth and sky

A glory and a gleam of newness play;
The endless void on high

Spreads its blue glory to the blaze of day;
A gorgeous radiance gilds the field and stream,
And smiling nature wears the beauty of a dream.

"In that rejoicing prime

Of hope and golden thoughts, the heart aspires
Beyond the bound of time,

And high in heaven uplifts its fond desires;
Ah, then, how sweet to hear the gentle prayer
Float softly upward, through the twilight's holy air!

Then, when the mind is new,

Before the shades of care bedim the brow

When all things to the view,

In hues of beauty and effulgence glow: Then should the visions of the soul arise,

And catch the living glow that fills the upper skies!!!

"For is it thus the heart

Is strengthened for the trial-hours to come,

When childhood shall depart,

And its rich garlands lose their sunny bloom; A