Enough-too much of this!—but I aspire
For gleams of joyance from my lowly strain
I feel the glow of elemental fire

Filling my frame,-and shall it burn in vain?
Once I might light my breast with purpose higher,
But now,-is not the iron in my brain
Searing the wounds, wild passion may have given?
Nor can I sing with heart and feelings riven.

And throbbing brow, and hopes in sunder rent:
And my hand wanders o'er the tuneless chords,
And what was joy now feels but punishment,
While fadeless pain her arrow still affords.
Alas, alas! for this was Passion sent?

Vainly I stem its tide, for aye it lords
Above whate'er of peace sat on my brow,
Nor can I breast its wave-at least not now!

But, as it flows, so must its ebb yet come-
Its breakers and its billows cannot last;
They must recede, seeking some other home,
Then I, my troubles and my trials past,
May look upon their white receding foam,

Nor heed the rising tempest's deadly blast,
When, in the haven of high hope, my barque
Is moored, at length, for ayebut hark!

What sounds like the sweet voice of Spring,
Breathing delight, and passion, and desire,
Soft as the thought of Love's imagining,
Some seraph's finger wakes from my lone lyre:
What music rises on the zephyr's wing,

Mingling with heaven's calm, earth's mental fire,
But low and gentle as an infant's sigh,
Hushed into sleep, by some fond lullaby.

I hail the omen!-how the wild winds sing!
Along the long neglected strings they rush,
And voluntary notes of gladness fling:

And, oh! how wildly comes that solemn gush

1

Of music's ecstacy, as if each string

With melody were instinct, and would-hush!
It comes again, that sweet unearthly strain,
Doth it not whisper, "Think no more of pain?"

Yes! in this softening hour-so calm--so dear,
My soul is mingling with that wind-waked strain;
It bids me for the future nurse no fear,

Nor dare the tenor of my fate arraign.

[The wind-waked music of an Eolian harp is here attempted to be described; but, what tongue could never tell, pen may in vain attempt to write. The music of the starry spheres cannot be more delightful than this voluntary, or involuntary, melody of the winds.]

R.S. M'K.

OLD SURLY.

A CHARACTERISTIC COUNTRY SKETCH.

BY FRANK GOLIGHTLY.

The village of Carisbroke is one of the most picturesque spots in the Isle of Wight. Bounded by a range of hills on the one side, and by the dark blue waters of the Medina on the other, it seems from the nature of its situation to be perfectly secluded from the world. A little lake flows through it, and gives a romantic wildness to the neighbourhood, the effect of which is enhanced by the ruins of Carisbroke Castle, with its donjon keep and Gothic archway frowning in awful magnificence upon the landscape. On quitting the village to the right, the eye of the passing stranger is perhaps directed to a little pathway, intersected by heath-broom, and winding round the brow of the slope on which these celebrated ruins are situated. Here, in the silence of an autumnal evening, when the last traces of day are saddening into twilight, and the wood-pigeon is cooing her farewell, the whole scene assumes the most luxuriant appearance. From the declivity of the hill, the spire of the village church is seen peeping forth

from its dusky coverlid of brushwood; and beyond, in the faintness of distance, appears the dark-bosomed ocean, with the light craft, gliding like shadows along its surface, and the island rocks encompassing it on every side.

About a mile from this sequestered hamlet, in a copse environed by nut-trees, stands an old-fashioned ruin, on the front of which was once emblazoned in gilt characters, like the alphabet upon a slice of gingerbread, the academical notice,

SEMINARY FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN.

It was kept by one Laurence Crab-tree, who, from the morose eccentricity of his disposition, was baptized by the appropriate designation of Old Surly. He had once been a tailor in the village, and possessed no inconsiderable share of the melancholy attributed to that fraternity. Having at last accumulated a sufficient sum in the exercise of his vocation, he determined to quit the scene, and enlighten his faculties by travel. He was absent about two years, and his memory was already on the wane, when he returned home, like the monkey who had seen the world, pompous, self-conceited, and egotistical. His neighbours, who had always feared, now surveyed him with increased reverence; for every trace of the tradesman had vanished; and his form seemed to have acquired the additional eight parts, which from the tailor are considered (catechetically speaking,) as “both requisite and necessary" to constitute the man.

He had been, however, but a short time returned, when, on a minute examination into the state of his abilities, it suddenly occurred to him that they were in the highest possible preservation. To prevent their rotting by neglect, he proposed a system of education, for which he was well adapted, at least in his own opinion, and volunteered the instruction of the village children on all subjects, or as he himself expressed it, to the edification of those who heard him, "de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis." The villagers, who were not to be persuaded in English, were convinced in Latin, and the school was no sooner opened than it received an accession of numbers amounting even to a plethora. The disposition of Old Surly was eminently qualified for his task, and, indeed, “the elements" of pedagogism were so mixed up in him, that

nature might stand boldly forth and say, this was a"-schoolmaster. His learning was of that peculiar stamp denominated "rigmarole;" and consisted principally of a smattering of English, and slight acquaintance with Latin. His Grecian erudition was confined to the first half of the alphabet; Hebrew he knew by sight; while his knowledge of French was bounded by the title-page of Palairet's Grammar. And now, if I am asked by the sceptic, how a tailor could inherit such miscellaneous information, I can merely reply, that he was reported to have picked it up, together with an old coat, in his travels, and to have rendered both acquisitions equally subservient to his interests.

But with respect to the school, he did not procure it with such facility as I have procured it for him. He previously suffered much from the reduced state of his finances, having long since resigned his situation at the board of cabbagemunchers, and having nothing to supply its place. His pounds, therefore, soon melted into shillings-his compound glass of gin and water, at the Three Cups, degenerated into the simple element of water, and his Sabbath coat made its first appearance at a pawnbroker's, in Newport. His distress became at length so urgent, that he resolved to institute a school; and lucky it was that he did so; for by this time his flesh had commenced an action for divorce against his bones, while their poverty-stricken master knew nothing of roast beef but the tune, a circumstance which added to the eccentric acerbity of his disposition.

In addition to his mental peculiarities, his "outer man" was the theme of endless diversion in the village. His head, after his accession to the school, was usually entombed in a boundless convexity of wig, that frowned, like a forest in a hoar frost, upon his occiput, and then concentrated its picturesque dimensions into a peruque of spiral longinquity. His brogues, which, according to ancient tradition, once paid their addresses to his ankles, had long since left that neighbourhood, to claim acquaintance with his knees, at which point they formed a pouch capable of containing, on emergency, articles of mastication or degludition, for at least a week. The rest of his dress was in strict keeping with what we have just described, and his Sunday coat, redeemed from the fangs of the pawnbroker, fluttered in pleasing undulations around

bim, like the frock of a young lady when it is rudely violated by a high wind at the corner of Marchmont-street. His wellworn worsted stockings, which seemed to hold in orthodox consternation the scriptural advice of "wash and be clean;" and were diversified, like a motion in the House of Commons, by frequent amendments, reminded the curious spectator of the Black Sea, with the islands sprinkled about its surface, and gave hints of the duration of time by the clocks, which, from time immemorial, had ornamented them.

To the amateurs of eccentric exhibitions, this animal must have afforded a rich treat; and he might accordingly be seen at twilight, wandering along the banks of the little village lake, with head inclined towards the ground, growling some passage of Phaedrus, or Eutropius, which he had contrived to pick up in the course of his travels. If, during these peregrinations, he was accosted by his neighbours, he would reply with an unconscious vibration of the occiput, which set his locks in motion like a cauliflower in a high wind! or grin with such hideous complaisance, that the interrogator would run affrighted from his presence, fully persuaded that he had encountered the devil and all his works.

On Sundays it was his usual custom to appear at church enthroned in the midst of his pupils. His features were always cadaverous; but when compressed, as it were, by the lightness of devotional gravity, called to mind the parchment of a drum stretched to unusual tension. The nose, too, contributed its share to the eccentricity of its brother fea. tures, and was of such inconvenient longinquity, that its owner was once advised by a wag to tie it in a double knot. Whether or no he took the advice, I am not prepared to assert; but have heard it affirmed as a truth, that the parish clerk, on seeing it for the first time, was so alarmed, that instead of saying Amen," he actually vociferated my eyes!" an image expressive of his astonishment. Such was the animal curiosity that adorned the village of Carisbroke, and contrived, by dint of classical quotations, and hints of intellectual supremacy, to establish himself as a great man in the neighbourhood, to the terror of dunces, and the improvement of future generations. His school, at the period to which this history alludes, was in its zenith of prosperity, for the clerk of the parish had undertaken to patronize it, and