It is a coincidence deserving notice, that this is also the precise period which we find the Irish Lajo na Garge allotting to the continuance of the celebrated combat between Goll of the Fian and the King of Lochlin: T15 Goll acas añ fear ·mór air añ ttráig, acas bhádur ocht lá acas ocht n-oidhche ag comhrac, zur torerad ri ločlan re Goll, ácaf a muinter uile leis an ffein. Durst shew himself in his ancient array, This bizarre poem concludes with a Hymn to God, thanking him for his mercies. After all, it is probably but an allegory of some kind or other, and Wine and Bang may be meant as personifications of some of the Divine attributes. We can come to no other conclusion when we consider the praises it lavishes on a beverage of which every Mussulman is bound by his creed to entertain an abhorrence. At the same time its latent meaning may be too obscure to be discovered, or perhaps, if discoverable, may not be worth the trouble of tracing. Our object in giving an abstract of the poem is simply to furnish the uninstructed among our readers (we hate writing for the learned) with some idea of the sort of poetry in which the Oriental mind delights to revel; for, eccentric and perhaps puerile as the sample we have exhibited may appear to them, they may be satisfied that few Mohammedans would not fancy themselves losers in bartering it for the most brilliant of the creations of Goethe or Shakespeare. But our limits forbid us to advance any further on the present occasion. In our next paper we propose to take up and discuss the subject of Persian literature. New and untrodden as this field will be to us, we ought perhaps to question the wisdom of yielding to the impulse that prompts us to enter it at all. In reality we should feel oppressed by many misgivings if our distrust of our integrity could be cast into the same scale with the diffidence we entertain of our ability to do justice to our task. But the case is otherwise. In whatever degree we may fail, we shall retain the consolation of reflecting that we have been assiduous to avoid failure in even the least degree. We shall claim for our undertaking all the merit of honest intentions. these cannot guarantee our success, they will at least enable us to remain upon good terms with ourself, and we trust will even acquire for us, to a certain extent, the suffrages of our readers. • Viz: concealed himself under the shape of lilac pills. If THE EAGLE'S NEST. FROM THE GERMAN OF JOHANNES SCHOPENHAUER. The affecting incident, upon which the following tale is founded-one which is no fiction-has, we believe, been already made the subject of a story in the pages of a British periodical. Even those of our readers to whom the incident may be familiar, will read with pleasure, the translation from the German edition of the story, which our contributor has supplied to us. "FRIEND Ricter! is it possible-is that yourself or your wraithe ?" I exclaimed, as I entered one of the most fashionable coffee-houses in Edinburgh, a voice not unknown to me, in right good German, though spoken with somewhat of a foreign accent, and at the same time a powerful hand seized mine and almost shook my arm off. I responded, as I best could, to this genuine English greeting, and with no less pleasure than was testified by him who greeted me; for, notwithstanding an interval of six years since we had seen each other, and though, in the meantime, his then spare and slender form had changed into a right portly All one, I at once recognised in him my old university English friend, Thomas Hill, with whom I had spent so many jovial hours, and played so many pleasant freaks at Gottingen. belonging to the little circle in which I was then included had loved the bold youngster, because he so cheerfully associated with us, and did not disdain, as many like him do, to live after our fashion in our own country— and also allowed each one to pass for that which, in the spirit of youth, he felt himself to be. That Tom was still the same old thing, appeared at once from his not having forgotten German, which he had then given himself much trouble to acquire; and I was delighted to hear from his lips the dear familiar sounds which, in a strange land, though spoken by persons the most indifferent, give every one a pleasurable emotion, but doubly so to me, from the unexpected finding of my friend, who thus reminded me of my happy youthful days. In five minutes we were seated opposite each other over a bottle of claret as familiarly as if we had never parted. And now came questions without end from him and answers and anecdotes on my part. I had to give him an account of all our acquaintances, of deaths, marriages, and love affairs; and also of my own restless desire for travel, which urged me, after leaving the university, through the half of Europe; and how, for a fair ending, I now wished to know something of Scotland, before allowing myself to be harnessed to the yoke of a profession which is the desired yet dreaded end of all our youthful aspirations. A brilliant lot had befallen my friend -the unexpected death of some collateral relation had left him heir to a rich unmarried uncle. By this a fair estate in fertile Yorkshire had fallen to him as it were from the clouds; and, as a consequence, the title of baronet also, through which the old worthy Tom was become stately Sir Thomas Hill. Furthermore, this son of Fortune had been for some weeks the delighted husband of a lovely woman, whom he presented to me, the same evening, as his bride; for in England there is no such thing as unwedded brides. This lovely name is first given to the newly-married during the honeymoon, whilst, with us, it is modestly appropriated to the preparatory weeks. Lady Matilda, so was my friend's consort named, was a genuine Englishwoman, of the most amiable kindfair and slender-somewhat pale, and somewhat sentimental-withal, intelligent, good-natured, and full of dutiful affection for her husband, whom, indeed, she fondly loved. I was his friend; that was sufficient to secure me the kindest reception from her. The young couple were on a tour to the Highlands, to form a personal acquaintance with their relations living on their possessions in that quarter; and that I now that we had found each other-should accompany them, seemed to my friend Tom so natural, and suited so well my own plans, that on both sides we did not think it worth while spending many words about the less so, as Lady Matilda also confirmed my friend's passing invitation by repeating it in the kindest manner. A few days afterwards we commenced our journey-travelling as quickly as the way permitted; yet we made but short stages. Wheresoever it pleased Lady Matilda we halted, and it pleased her almost every where. The wild, romantic splendor of the country charmed her mind, so susceptible of everything beautiful. Her sketch-book was her constant companion-to take down each fair scene for future recollections was her delight, which we willingly indulged her in--besides, her delicate frame was not calculated for much fatigue; and as for us, we did not see why we should be in such haste to reach people whom we knew not, and who, perhaps, might not particularly please us. We had passed the night at Tyndown, and set out early, after the fashion of English travellers, that we might journey some miles before breakfast in the cool of morning. It was St. John's day, and Heaven and Earth seemed to have conspired to celebrate the Feast of Roses gorgeously, even in this rocky land, where they so seldom bloom. Each lofty peak had doffed the cap of clouds in which they wrap themselves the greater portion of the year before the glorious sun that darted his warmest rays from the deep blue æther. Mountain and valley, the wild rocks and moss-covered 'glens of Herres, "prankt them gaily" in the golden gleams-whilst grass and leaves and heather rustled sociably amongst each other, moved by the breath of air, which only stirred, not to leave the heat of the day too powerful. As hungry as we can only ever wish ourselves to be when we encounter a Scottish breakfast, and after being dragged for a considerable distance along very uneven roads, over hill and dale, we at length reached the wretched little village of Dalmally, in which the inn alone deserves the name of house. The morning, however, was too fine for us to endure the idea of being immured in a close room. Lady Matilda longed for some picturesque object to enrich her sketch-book; and scarcely had she expressed her wish when young and old of the inn set themselves in motion to lead us to a : wonderfully-beautiful spot at some distance, that gave us a really enchanting view of the vale of Glenorchy, at whose extreme end Dalmally lies. All that we required was speedily brought after us; and in less than a quarter of an hour the tea-kettle was boiling, and, for such a remote region, a very proper tea-service laid on a table covered with a snow-white cloth along with it was fresh mountain butter, golden honeycombs, little smoked fish, hard-boiled eggs, rich orange marinalade, and many things indispensible to the breakfasts of the better class in Scotland; besides, their oatmeal cakes, which, with this poor, contented people, supply the place of bread, and generally, along with potatoes, the place of every other nourishment. There we seated ourselves quite contented, and surveyed, in silent rapture, the rich green meadows of Glenorchy, through which a tolerablesized mountain stream winds, murmuring and chafing in thousand fanciful curves. Innumerable cabins, constructed of turf and stone, partly solitary, partly in small groups, which are here called villages, enliven this lovely valley, whilst a church, situated on an eminence at some distance, greatly heightens the picturesque effect. Steep towering rocks surround it on all sides, like eternal bulwarks of this retreat, and, by contrast with their wild majestic forms, enhance its modest graces. Lady Matilda presided at the teatable, with all the pleasing and indescribable charm which Englishwomen alone can impart to this occupation; and was selecting, beforehand, all the picturesque views which she intended to commit to paper. Our hostess remained standing near us, to be at hand lest we should want anything. She was a kind, matronlike-looking woman, who, moreover, spoke very intelligible English, which is by no means generally the case here, where the Gaelic usually prevails. She answered very distinctly all questions directed to her, and gave Lady Matilda very satisfactory information on all that she desired to know. The scene in the valley became gradually more animated. Men, women, and children, streamed from every corner, from the cabins to the meadows, a joyous throng, augmenting every moment, to which the romantic national garb of the men gave a peculiarly unique appearance. Carts, too, drawn by little diminutive horses, indigenous to those mountains, were brought out and laden so high with hay that they often appeared to move by themselves, the little creatures being entirely covered by the load which they were drawing. We are drawing home the hay to-day," said our hostess. "That's why I alone have the honor of attending you-my husband and children are all below, and I must ask your pardon for their not waiting on you as was but their duty to do. God is pleased to let his sun shine brightly, and the whole parish is collected today to secure the blessing of heaven ; for such days as this but seldom come. But, God help me!—there is no bread on the table so much for having one's head too full-pardon me for forgetting to bring it. No, my lady! our oaten cakes are not for such fine quality as you. I only set them down because they are usual with us. God be praised genteel travellers, who honor us with their visits, always find bread enough in my house-there must be some there just now. Molly! Molly!" called she to a female who just passed with a child in her arms, and hastening up to her, gave her some secret directions, and then returned to us. "Have you ever seen a more interesting figure ?" exclaimed Lady Matilda, gazing intently after the young and slender nymph-like figure that was now hastening towards the inn as light-footed as a fawn. Her scanty but accurately clean dress was not sufficient to conceal the perfect symmetry of a delicate shape, which any artist might have unhesitatingly painted for a model of Psyche. In the walk and every gesture of this fair form lay something so indescribably elegant and graceful, that we could not turn our eyes from it so long as it remained in view. It wanted nothing to be a chef-d'œuvre of creating nature but that fresh plumpness of youth, which sickness, perhaps, or, more probably, too scanty fare, had already stifled in its first bloom. In a few minutes she returned with what was wanted as speedily as she had gone; and now we had a view of the most perfect oval of one of the loveliest Madonna faces, such as are only to be seen in the inspired moments of Raphael's sublimer phantasies.Deep grief, yet pious resignation, breathed round her small lovely mouth, and spoke from the fair but wasted features of her pale countenance; and when she came near us, her fine arched eyelids veiled with their long silken lashes a pair of such large dark blue eyes as I had never seen. "God bless you and that dear child!" said Lady Matilda; "yet come a little nearer to me; I do so love little children, when they are pretty and clean like this," and she kindly stretched out her arms for the child. My friend, honest Tom, was quite affected, and it was really charming to see the lovely and elegant female dandling in her arms the fine healthy infant (that seemed not more than a month old), and bending down to it with the most affectionate looks, and when it opened its pair of large beauteous eyes, how she fondly kissed it, and, pressing it to her bosom, gave it back again. "Is that your own baby?" asked Lady Matilda; "yet scarcely, you are still so young-your brother's, perhaps?" Molly stood there, suffused with glowing crimson, and then, turning deadly pale, she curtsied lowly, and spoke a few unintelligible words, which Lady Matilda took for an assent to her question. Then it is, indeed, your child!" exclaimed she. "Good God! still so young-certainly scarce eighteen years old, and already married and a mother!" Molly became still paler than before -then fiery red-then again deadly pale. Two large heavy tear-drops fell from her painfully quivering eyes upon the smiling baby, and inwardly sobbing she pressed it with convulsive energy to her breast, then turned away, and in a few minutes was lost to our view. "Good God! why does she weep? what effects the poor creature so ?" asked Lady Matilda, shocked and grieved. "Surely I did not mean to pain her feelings. Perhaps her husband is dead? she seems so unhappy, and is still so very young." "Yes, indeed, is she both," replied the hostess, with a sigh, "unhappy enough, and, as my lady well remarked, scarcely eighteen years old. I know her well-I am her godmother-and, what is the worst of it, no person can help her but one, and he is a hardened sinner." Lady Matilda looked at her with surprise. "What, then, is the matter with her?" asked she. "Poor she is, that I see plainly-yet kind hearts may assist her-or the father of the child is, perhaps, lying sick. Help is always to be had of God and man if only it be properly sought." "Alas! my lady, you have a Christian heart, and will surely forgive the poor friendless creature for presuming to come near you when you beckoned to her," said the hostess, whilst, with downcast eyes, she played with her apron in painful embarrassment. “The child is, alas! a child of sin and shame, baptized with tears, and God best knows with what scalding, bitter tears! but it is still God's creature, and you will not despise it nor loathe yourself for having taken it in your arms." Lady Matilda blushed, and a sigh heaved her tender bosom. "And how does the unhappy mother live now ?" asked this kind, compassionate wo man. "She makes shift as she can," was the reply" she works day and night, here, there, and everywhere that there is anything for her to do, in order to support her poor baby and her sick mother. A case like hers has not, God be praised, happened in our parish almost within the memory of man; but all the neighbours feel compassion for her, and we willingly endure her in the village; for, excepting this one false step, which she rues so bitterly, there is no better nor truer mind far and wide than poor Molly's. Alas! she is one, too, of those that have seen better days-and there always goes a pang through my heart when I see her now on the Sabbath in her wretched thin gown, shrinking among the parish poor in the darkest corner of the church." All that we had heard and seen of poor Molly awakened our deepest sympathy. We wished to learn more particularly her sad fortunes, and our hostess shewed herself not unwilling to gratify us. Molly's story was one of the most ordinary character-such as have occurred millions of times, and will still occur in the world-one of the countless throng over which many a young heart has broken. "She had loved, confided-was betrayed, abandoned! Less than a year before she had been the pride of the parish; and whosoever met the lovely child at early morn looked on this as a fortunate omen for the whole ensuing day. God bless your pretty face,' the old people would cry when she passed them with her friendly greeting. The young men called her the valley's fairest flower;' even the young maidens loved her |