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1838.] Tupper's Geraldine.
"' I could not hide my alter'd form:
Of gibe and insult burst:
Me, their poor sister, curst.
"' And little can the untempted dream, While gliding smoothly on life's stream
They keep the letter-laws,
They knew how hunger gnaws.
"' O woman, had thy kindless face
And heal'd the wounds it gave I—
A linger out to save.
"' They tore my baby from my heart, And lock'd it in some hole apart
Where I could hear its cry, Such was the horrid poor-house law;
Its little throes I never saw,
Although I heard it die 1
"' Still the stone hearts that ruled the place
0 I was mad with rage and hate,
And not a word I said.
"' I would not slay, I could not bear
1 watched my lime, and fled away
With fear and anguish wild:
"' Till down upon a river's bank,
And only long'd to die;
To life and misery.
"' Ah, lightly heed the righteous few
But all things given to them;
They heartlessly condemn:
We do not think the idea very happy of " Contrasted Sonnets"—such as, Nature—Art; The Happy Home—The Wretched Home; Theory—Practice; Pi itches—Poverty; Philanthropic—Misanthropic; Country Town;and so on—and 'tis an ancient, nay, a stale idea, though Mr Tupper.evidently thinks it fresh and new, and luxuriates in it as if it were all his own. Sometimes he chooses to shew that he is ambidexter—and how much may be said on both sides—leaving the reader's mind in a state of indifference to what may really be the truth of the matter—or disposed to believe that he knows more about it than the Sonnetteer. The best are Prose and Poetry and they are very good—so is " Ancient," but Modern is very bad—and therefore we quote the three—
"' I was half-starved, I tried in vain
Before me flew my shame;
The child of evil fame.
"' Alas, why need I count by links
My heart, my soul, my all?
And lived upon my fall:
"' Now was I reckless, bold and bad,
With thinking on my wrongs;
Such meed to guilt belongs.
"' And what I was,—still such am I;
And yet I hoped I might
Of this December night.
"'My tale is told : my heart grows cold;
I know that you will stay,—
On wretched Ellen Gray?'
"Her eye was fixed; she said no more,
She leaned her fainting head;
—And the poor girl was dead."
"That the fine edge of intellect is dulled,
And mortal ken with cloudy films obscure,
That virtue's self is weak its love to lure,
But pride and lust keep all the gates secure,
The selfish, useful, money-making plan,
Where in hard matter sinks ideal man:
Thy darkness to confound with yon bright band
And now as kings in prose on fame's clear summit stand.''
"To touch the heart, and make its pulses thrill,
To raise and purify the grovelling soul,
To conquer passion with a mild controul,
These are thine aims, O pure unearthly power,
And therefore these, who have thee for their dowei.
Eat angels' food, the manna thou dost shower:
Whether to read, or write, or think, or hear,
"My sympathies are all with times of old,
I cannot live with things of yesterday,
Upstart, and flippant, foolish, weak, and gay,
I love to wander o'er the shadowy past,
And seem to find myself almost the last
Of a time-honoured race, decaying fast;
Conjuring up what story it might tell,
And in a desert could delight to dwell
Mr Tupperhas received much praise bation of the public. Perhaps our.
from crities whose judgment is gene- rough notes may help him to discover
rally entitled to great respect—in the where his strength lies ; and, with his
Alias—if we mistake not—in the right feelings, and amiable seesibili
Sptctutor—and in the Sun. If our ties, and fine enthusiasm, and healthy
censure be undeserved—letourcopious powers when exercised on familiar
quotations justify themselves, and be and domestic themes, so dear for-
our condemnation. Our praise may ever to the human heart, there seems
seem, cold and scanty; but so far no reason why, in good time, he
from despising Mr Tupper's talents, may not be among our especial
we have good hopes of him, and do favourites, and one of "the Swans
not foar but that he will produce many of Thames"—which, we believe, are
far better things than the best of as big and as bright as those of the
those we have selected for the appro- Tweed.
Alas! for poor Nicol 1 Dead and gone—but no* to be forgotten—for aye to be remembered among the flowers of the forest, early wede away 1
Tub Uk' Bible.
"Chief of the Household Gods
Which hallow Scotland's lowly cottage-homes!
That speak, though dumb, deep thought upon me comes—
"The Mountains old and hoar—
The chainless Winds—the Streams so pure and free—
The waving Forest—the eternal Sea—
"Oil could worship thee 1 v
Thou art a gift a God of love might give;
In thy Almighty-written pages live!
"God 1 unto Thee I kneel,
And thank Thee! Thou unto my native land—
Hast stretch'd in love Thy Everlasting hand, And Thou hast given Earth, and Sea, and Air—.
Yea ail that heart can ask of Good and Pure and Fail!
"And, Father, Thou hast spread
Before Men's eyes this Charter of the Free,
And Justice love, and Truth and Liberty.
"Thou doubly-precious Book 1
Unto thy light what doth not Scotland owe?
And Youth in Truth unsullied up to grow!
"O'er thy broad ample page
How many dim and aged eyes have pored?
In silence deep and holy have adored?
"And o'er thee soft young hands
Have oft in truthful plighted Love been join'd,
Hast been a bond—an altar of the mind !—
We have no heart to write about him his memory—they breathe of the holy
and his genins and his virtues now; fragrance that "smells sweet and
but these lines which Scotland "will blossoms in the dust." And how
not willingly let die," will embalm beautiful are these!
A DAY AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
"'Come sit by your father's knee,
"' Whan morn abune yon eastern hill
Had raised its glimmerin' e'e, I hied me to the heather hills,
Whar' gorcocks crawin' flee;
Frac out the dewy dens,
In lane an' hoary glens.
"' Auld frownin' rocks on either hand,
Uprear'd their heads to Heaven, Like temple-pillars which the foot
O' Time had crush'd an' riven;
Upo' my ear did flow,—
The tales o' long ago.
"' The daisy, frae the burnie's side,
Was lookin' up to God— The crag that crown'd the towering peak
Seem'd kneeling on the sod:
An' on ilk naked rock—
An' haly words it spoke.
"' The nameless flowers that budded up- Each beauteous desart child— The heather's scarlet blossoms spread O'er many a lanely wild:The lambkins, sporting in the glens— The mountains old and bare— Seem'd worshipping; and there with them I breathed my morning prayer.
"' Alang o'er monie a mountain-tap—
Alang through monie a glen — Wi' Nature haudin' fellowship,
I journey'd far frae men.
Wad burst upon my eye,
Wad come the breezes' cry.
"' At noon, I made my grassy couch Beside a haunted stream,—
A bonnie blumin' bush o' brume Waved o'er me in my dream.
"' I dream'd a bonnie bonnie dream,
As sleepin' there I lay :—
The fairy people stray.
To live in glen an' wold—
As in the days o' old.
"' I saw them dance upon' the breeze,
A n' hide within the flower—
An' skim the lakelets o'er!
O' ages lost an' gone
War' peopled every one!
"' The vision fled, an' I awoke :—
The sun was sinkin' doon;
Had sung their gloamin' tune:
The breezes on the flower; An' Nature's heart was beating calm,—
It was the evening hour.
"'An', father, whan the mune arose,
lTpo' a mountain-height
Bound wi' its siller light.
Upo' that silent hill;
Sae holy was an' still!
"There was a lowly mound o'green
Beside me risin' there,—
An' say its twilight prayer. The munelight kiss'd the gladsome flowers
That o'er that mound did wave; Then I remember'd that I stude
Aside the Martyrs' grave!
"I knelt upo' that hallow'd earth,
While Memory pictured o'er The changing scenes — the changing thoughts, That day had held in store; An' then my breast wi' gladness swell'd, ''" An' God in love did bless,— He gave me, 'mong auld Scotland's hills, A day o' happiness!"
INDEX TO VOL. XLIV.
/ Alcestis of Euripides, the, translated by Mr
latur of Homer's Hymns, 52.
posed, 625—his endowments of popery