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allowance of L.18,000 a-year (with if not frugal, good taste ; and that, in other matters, amounting to L.21,000), the simplicity of their style, there was leaves only the small sum of L.20,800 nothing to contrast offensively with to meet the troubles of this world. the ordinary habits of the guests ; nor,

A sensible, and by no means an I should have thought, to increase in uncourteous letter, on this subject has any sensible degree the expenses of appeared, utterly denying that the ex

your establishment." penses of the Presidentship could be a All this will be extremely well reburden to any one with a tenth or a lished by the country, though we shall hundredth of the unhappy Royal not answer for the Royal Duke's equaDuke's income.

nimity on the occasion. The truth is, It says, “ I have been thirty years that all men are extremely glad when a Fellow of the Society, and have fre- pretexts and pretences exhibit them. quently had the honour of being elect- selves the things they are. Paying all ed of the Council. I have attended due respect to rank and royalty, we the evening parties of Sir J. Banks, have seen nothing in the conduct of Sir H. Davy, and Mr Gilbert. I this man, whether young or old, to have also attended, I believe, all the justify any kind of regret on the occa• soirees' at your Royal Highness's sion. A Whig prince, in the modern residence to which I was honoured sense of Whiggism, is an anomaly and with an invitation, and I think I may an absurdity. If Radicalism were say that these have not amounted to four triumphant for a week, it would strip altogether, and that, except your Royal every prince in the land of title, penHighness's frank and gracious reception sion, honours, and coat and breeches, of your guests, there was nothing to dis- and send them roving the earth like tinguish them from the evening parties the unfortunate French nobility. so frequent in London, in which a pri But we warn the country that the vate gentleman gives tea, coffee, and experiment on the parliamentary risconversation to his literary friends." cera is to be repeated. The “ Date

It continues in the same quiet, but obolum Belisario" will not altogether perfectly intelligible style— I can answer in the instance of a petitioner only say that the meetings which I who“ of the division of a battle knows attended, though perhaps too few in no more than a spinster.” We recom. number, were conducted with plain, mend the following :

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
Ready to beg the utmost that he can,

And humbly take his twenty thousand more.
Whose gartered limbs his poverty bespeak,

A talking, trifling, brain-bewildered thing,
Whose name in vain in History's page you'll seek ;

Who never served his country or his king.
What were a palace by the public given,

A lavish pension, title, and a star ?
Now comes he-- by the price of Congo driven,

To hold his hand up at your worships' bar.
For forty years, just thirty times he dined

Per month, where Charity supplied the meal,
But years will come—this practice has declined,

And now he lives, hard fare, upon his zeal.
When once the Savans with his toast made free

(Dinners and suppers were beyond a prince),
Fate struck the hour when first he gave them tea,

He ne'er has known a smile, or sixpence since.
In vain the presidential glories rose,

Sir Joseph's three-cocked hat, Sir Isaac's chair,
Sir Humphrey's rapier, Gilbert's well darned hose,

The spectre of the grocer's bill was there.
Pitý the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
Ready to beg the utmost that he can,

And humbly take his twenty thousand more.


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COLERidge's Christabel is the most ches of the tree, would seem to be doing exquisite of all his inspirations; and, the injustice of neglect to the elegance incomplete as it is, affects the imagi- of its foliage, and the microscopic nation more magically than any other perfection of every single leaf. Those poem concerning the preternatural. who now read it for the first time, will We are all the while in our own real scarcely be disposed to assent to so and living world, and in the heart of much praise ; but the man to whom it its best and most delightful affections. is familiar will remember how it has Yet trouble is brought among them grown to his own liking—how much from some region lying beyond our of melody, depth, nature, and inken, and we are alarmed by the sha- vention, he has found from time to dows of some strange calamity over time hiding in some simple phrase hanging a life of beauty, piety, and or unobtrusive epithet.”

In no peace. We resign all our thoughts poem can “ every line be a picture ; and feelings to the power of the mys- and there is little or no meaning in tery — seek to enjoy rather than to what Mr Tupper says above about solve it—and desire that it may be the tree; but our wonder is, how, with not lengthened but prolonged, so his feeling of the beauty of Christabel, strong is the hold that superstitious he could have so blurred and marred Fear has of the human heart, entering it in his unfortunate sequel. it in the light of a startling beauty, excuse," he says, " for continuing the while Evil shows itself in a shape of fragment at all, will be found in Coleheaven; and in the shadows that Ge- ridge's own words to the preface of ñius throws over it, we know not whe. the 1816 pamphlet edition, where he ther we be looking at Sin or Inno- says, • I trust that I shall be able to cence, Guilt or Grief.

embody in verse the three parts yet Coleridge could not complete Chris- to come, in the course of the present tabel. The idea of the poem, no doubt, year'-a half-promise which, I need dwelt always in his imagination—but scarcely observe, has never been rethe poet knew that power was not gi- deemed.” Mr Tupper continues : “ In ven him to robe it in words, The the following attempt I may be cenWritten rose up between him and the sured for rashness, or commended for Unwritten; and seeing that it was courage; of course, I am fully aware, “ beautiful exceedingly," his soul was that to take up the pen where Colesatisfied, and shunned the labour RIDGE has laid it down, and that in the though a labour of love-of a new wildest and most original of his poems, creation.

is a most difficult, nay, dangerous proTherefore 'tis but a Fragment— ceeding ; but upon these very characand for the sake of all that is most teristics of difficulty and danger I wild and beautiful, let it remain so for humbly rely; trusting that, in all pro

But we are forgetting our per consideration for the boldness of selves; as many people as choose may the experiment, if I be adjudged to publish what they call continuations fail, the fall of Icarus may be broken ; and sequels of Christabel but not if I be accounted to succeed, the flight one of them all will be suffered to live. of Dædalus may apologize for his preIf beyond a month any one of them is sumption." Finally,” he says, " I observed struggling to protract its deem it due to myself to add, what I ricketty existence, it will assuredly be trust will not be turned against me, strangled, as we are about to strangle viz. that, if not written literally curMr Tupper's Geraldine.

rente calamo, GERALDINE has been Mr Tupper is a man of talent, and the pleasant labour of but a very few in his Preface writes, on the whole, ju- days. diciously of Christabel. “Every word Mr Tupper does not seem to know tells—every line is a picture : simple, that Christabel “was continued" many beautiful, and imaginative, it retains years ago, in a style that perplexed its hold upon the mind by so many the public and pleased even Coleridge. delicate feelers and touching points, The ingenious writer meant it for a that to outline harshly the main bran. mere jeu de sprit-but “ Geraldine"


is dead serious, and her father hopes These few words signify some unimaan immortal fame. We neither“ cen- ginable horror—and never did genius, sure him for rashness nor commend not even Shakspeare's, so give to one him for courage,” but are surprised at of its creations, by dim revelation his impertinence, and pained by his mysteriously diffused, a fearful being stupidity—and the more for that he that all at once is present “beyond possesses powers that, within their the reaches of our souls"—something own proper province, may gain him fiendish in what is most fair, and blastreputation. We like him, and hope ing in what is most beautiful. to praise him some day-nay, purpose Powerful as Prospero was Coleto praise him this very day--therefore ridge ; but what kind of a wand is we shall punish him at present but waved by Mr Tupper? with forty stripes. He need not fear “ Thickly curls a poisonous smoke, a fall like that of Icarus, for his artifi- And terrible shapes with evil names cial wings have not lifted his body Are leaping around in a circle of flames, fairly off the ground and so far from And the tost air whirls, storm-driven, soaring through the sky like a Dæda. And the rent earth quakes, charm-riven,lus, he labours along the sod after the And-art thou not afraid ?" fashion of a Dodo. In the summer of

Previous to these apparitions, the 1797, Coleridge wrote the first part wolf has been hunting, the raven of Christabel—in 1800, the second- croaking, the owlscreeching, the clock and published them in 1816—so per- of course tolling twelve, fected, that his genius, in its happiest hours, feared to look its own poem in

" And to her cauldron hath hurried the the face, and left it for many long And aroused the deep bay of the mastiff

witch, years, and at last, without an altered

bitch ;” or an added word, to the delight of all

The ages. Mr Tupper's “Geraldine has moon is gibbous, and looks been the pleasant labour of a very few

“ like an eye-ball of sorrow," and yet days !"-(Loud cries of Oh! oh! is called "sun of the night,"—most oh!)

perversely-and oh! how unlike the Mr Tupper in the Third Canto

sure inspiration of Coleridge! While, shows us the Lady Geraldine beneath with the " Sun of the Night" shining, the oak—the scene of the Witch's first Geraldine is absurdly said to bemeeting with Christabel. You remem “ Fair truant-like an angel of light, ber the lines in Coleridge-and more Hiding from heaven in dark midnight." vividly these

One touch of the Poet's would have “ There she sees a damsel bright, shown the scene in all the power of Drest in a silken robe of white,

midnight, by such an accumulation of That standing in the moonlight shone :

ineffective and contradictory imagery The neck that made the white robe wan,

thus utterly destroyed. S. T.C. made Her stately neck and arms were bare ;

the Witch dreadful— M. F. T. makes Her blue-veined feet unsandelled were,

her disgusting.
And wildly glittered here and there
The gems entangled in her hair.

All dauntless stands the maid
I guess, 'twas frightful there to see In mystical robe array'd,
A lady so richly clad as she,

And still with flashing eyes
Beautiful exceedingly!

She dares the sorrowful skies,

And to the moon, like one possest, And you remember how Christabel,

Hath shown- dread! that face so fair after that

Should smile above so shrunk a breast, “ Her gentle limbs did she undress,

Haggard and brown, as hangeth thereAnd lay down in her loveliness,

O evil sight !-wrinkled and old,

The dug of a witch, and clammy cold, On her elbow did recline

Where in warm beauty's rarest mould To look at the Lady Geraldine."

Is fashioned all the rest." And how, when the Witch unbound her cincture,

“ Muttering wildly through her set teeth, “ Her silken robe and inner vest

She seeketh and stirreth the demons beDropt to her feet, and full in view,

neath." Behold! her bosom and half her side, Why-were not already “ terrible A sight to dream of, not to tell !

shapes with evil names leaping around O shield her! shield sweet Christabel!". a circle of flames?" But

“ Now one nearer than others is heard Green as the herbs on which it couched, Flapping this way, as a huge sea-bird, Close by the dove's its head it crouched ; Or liker the dark-dwelling ravenous shark And with the dove it heaves and stirs, Cleaving through the waters dark.” Swelling its neck as she swelled hers! Of her or him we hear no more

I woke ; it was the midnight hour,

The clock was echoing in the tower ; and it is well--but who that ever saw a shark in the sea would say that his This dream it would not pass away

But though my slumber was gone by, style of motion was like that of a huge It seems to live upon my eye! sea-bird flapping its wings ? Geral. And thence I vowed this self-same day, dine feels “ the spell hath power,” With music strong and saintly song and

To wander through the forest lone, “ Her mouth grows wide, and her face Lest aught unholy loiter there." falls in,

How beautiful the picture! The And her beautiful brow becomes flat and

expression how perfect! How full thin,

of meaning the dream! Mr Tupper And sulphurous flashes blear and singe

does not know it was a dream of love That sweetest of eyes with its delicate in fear; and interpreting it literally,

fringe, Till, all its loveliness blasted and dead,

transforms Geraldine into a “ bright The eye of a snake blinks deep in her green snake!” and such a snake! head;

The “ dragon-maid ” coils herself For raven locks flowing loose and long

round the “ old oak stump,” splitting Bristles a red mane, stiff and strong,

it to the heart, which, it seems, is And sea-green scales are beginning to

hollow and black-and after a while speck

“ The hour is fled, the spell hath sped; Her shrunken breasts, and lengthening And heavily dropping down as dead, neck;

All in her own beauty drest, The white round arms are sunk in her Brightest, softest, loveliest, sides,--

Fair faint Geraldine lies on the ground, As when in chrysalis canoe

Moaning sadly; A may-fly down the river glides,

And forth from the oak Struggling for life and liberty too,-

In a whirl of thick smoke Her body convulsively twists and twirls,

Grinning gladly, This way and that it bows and curls,

Leaps with a hideous howl at a bound And now her soft limbs meit into one

A squat black dwarf of visage grim, Strangely and horribly tapering down, With crutches beside each tuisted limb Till on the burnt grass dimly is seen Half hidden in many a fiame-coloured rag,A serpent-monster, scaly and green,

It is Ryxa the Hag !" Horror !—can this be Geraldine ?" You remember the dream of Bracy - by whom the deponent saith not

Ryxa the hag is the Witch's mother the Bard in Christabel—told by him- and undertakes to clothe her with all self to Sir Leoline ?

beauty-in the shape of Geraldine“ In my sleep I saw that dove,

that she may win the love of the Lady That gentle bird, whom thou dost love, Christabel's betrothed knight, and enAnd calls't by thy own daughter's name joy his embraces-only that Sir Leoline! I saw the same

“Still thy bosom and half thy side Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan

Must shrivel and sink at eventide, Among the green herbs in the forest alone.

And still, as every Sabbath breaks, Which when I saw and when I heard,

Thy large dark eyes must blink as a snake's." I wondered what might ail the bird ; For nothing near it I could see,

She tells her, too, to beware of the Save the grass and green herbs underneath hymning of the Holy Bardthe old Tree.

For that the power of hymn and harp And in my dream methought I went

Thine innermost being shall wither and To search out what might there be found ;

warp, And what the sweet bird's trouble meant

And the same hour they touch thine ears, That thus lay flattering on the ground. A serpent thou art for a thousand years." I went and heard, and could descry No cause for her distressful cry;

Such is Canto Third, and it exBut yet for her dear Lady's sake

plains — as we understand it, what I stooped, methought, the dove to take, occurred immediately before the meetWhen lo! I saw a bright green snake ing of Christabel and the Witch beCoiled around its wings and neck,

neath the oak, as described in the

First Canto by Coleridge. But how “ leaps the moat,"—an unusual feat. the Dragon Maid was so beautiful be. And who is he? Amador, “ a found. fore her mother endowed her with the ling youth," who having been exposed borrowed mein of Geraldine, we do in infancy“ beneath the tottering not know ; nor are we let into the Bowther-stone," and picked up by Sir secret of the cause of her hatred of Leoline, in due course of time fell in Christabel in particular, more than of love with Christabel, and, on discoany other lovely Christian lady with very of their mutual affection, had a Christian lover, of whom there must been ordered by the wrathful Baron have been many at that day among away to the Holy Land, not to return tlie Lakes. The Canto seems to

“ Till name and fame and fortune are his." us throughout to the last degree absurd.

The progress of the loves of the "handIt pleased Coleridge to give to each some (!) youth and the beauteous maid" of his two Cantos a conclusion in a is described circumstantially—and we separate set of verses—and Mr Tup- are told that, when climbing the mounper does the same—but oh! my eye, tains together, they did not what verses ! He speaketh of hatred

guess that the strange joy they feel --or jealousy—or some infernal pas. The rapture making their hearts reel, sion or another, which, among other Springs from aught else than—sweet evil works,

Grassmere, " Floodeth the bosom with bitterest gall,

Or hill and valley far and near, It drowneth the young virtues all,

Or Derwent's banks, and glassy tide, And the sweet milk of the heart's own

Lowdore and hawthorn'd Ambleside." fountain,

Such simplicity is rare, even now-aChoked and crushed by a heavy mountain, days, in young people on whom “ life's All curdled, and harden'd, and blacken'd, noon is blazing bright and fair." But doth shrink

so it was, Mr Tupper assures us in Into the Sepia's stone-bound ink!!" &c.

lines that will bear comparison with Think of these lines as Coleridge's,

any thing of the kind in any language.

“ Thus they grew up in each other, “ The creature of the God-like forehead !".

Till to ripened youth

They had grown up for each other; Part Fourth beginneth thus

Yet, to say but sooth,

She had not lov'd him, as other “ The eye of day hath opened grey,

Than a sister doth,
And the gallant sun
Hath trick'd his beams by Rydal's streams,

And he to her was but a brother,

With a brother's troth : And waveless Coniston;

But selfish craft, that slept so long, From Langdale Pikes his glory strikes,

And, if wrong were, had done the wrong, From heath and giant hill,

Now, just awake, with dull surprise From many a tairn, and stone-built cairn,

Read the strange truth, And many a mountain rill:

And from their own accusing eyes
Helvellyn bares his forehead black,

Condemned them both,
And Eagle-crag, and Saddleback,
And Skiddaw hails the dawning day,

That they, who only for each other
And rolls his robe of clouds away.'

Gladly drew their daily breath,

Now must curb, and check, and smother Mr Tupper knows nothing of the Through all life, love strong as death ; localities--and should have consulted While the dear hope they just have learnt to Green's Guide before sitting down to prize, « continue" Christabel. Coniston has And fondly cherish, no connexion with Rydal's streams, The hope that in their hearts deep-rooted nor have they any connexion with Sir Jies, Leoline's Castle in Langdale-much

Must pine and perish : less has Helvellyn-and least of all For the slow prudence of the worldly wise have Saddleback and Skiddaw. No In cruel coldness still denies doubt the "eye of day” saw them all, The foundling youth to woo and win and many a place beside ; but this

The heiress daughter of Leoline." slobbering sort of work is neither To part them was as bard as to bid poetry nor painting-mere words.

“ The broad oak stump, as it stands on the A stranger knight with a noble re

farm, tinue arrives at the Castle gate, and 'Be rent asunder by strength of arm;"

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