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But mighty as thou art, Valdivia, know,
Then first, when Valdivia turns away in anger, and Lautaro retires from the scene, we are introduced to the Missionary. The scenery, in the midst of which stands his oratory, again gives occasion for the exercise of that power of description, which Mr .. possesses in a degree equal to the best poets of his country. We give a part which impressed us with
the most lively P.
But dying sounds of passions that were past;
lines— There was no worldly feeling in his eye, The world to him “was as a thing gone by." The lessons of piety and resignation by which he instructs his young convert Lautaro, and the relation of the tale of his misfortunes, are given with that sweetness and simplicity which the character demands, and which indeed pervade the whole poem. The adopted daughter of the Missionary has become the wife of Lautaro, which is the tie that binds him to the Spaniards. Another personage is now introduced, and one, the novelty of which is extremely pleasing— not that we mean to say that an inconstant lover is by any means new, but the mixture of gayety and melancholy of warmth of heart, and instability of principle, forms the charm which envelopes Zarinel the minstrel. He comes to Anselmo to relieve his conscience by a confession of his cruelty to “an Indian maid,” who trusted, and was by him deserted. This, it will be readily conjectured, was the daughter of Atacapac, and sister of Lautaro, who found him in distress, pitied and led him to her father's hut.
“The father spokenot:-by the pine-wood blaze, The daughter stood—and turn’d a cake of maize. And then, as sudden shone the light, I saw Such features as no artist hand might draw. Her form; her face, her symmetry, her air, Father I thy age must such spano
She sav'd my life—and kindness, if not love,
Yet notwithstanding her pathetic remonstrances, ambition conquers love —he leaves “ her sorrows and the scene behind,”—and for this he craves absolution from her father. Though all Anselmo's admonition is equally excellent, we think these two lines all-expressive: go uns #one,
The succeeding canto presents Inany sublime and terrific scenes. The different appearance of the several Indian warriors, particularly Caupolican —their solemn invocation of their “ country-gods”—their denunciations of vengeance against the tyrants who invade their rights, is told in the most forcible manner, and bear the attention along with eager impetuosity during the continuance of these mysterious ceremonies, and examination of the unfortunate Spanish captive, who, as he tremblingly pronounces the name of the hostile commander, and casts the billet into the trench, excites the renewed rage of the assembled avengers.
Warrior. * Cast in the lot.” Again, with looks aghast, The captive in the trench a billet cast. : Pronounce his name who here pollutes the plain, The leader of the mailed hosts .#.;; Captive. * Valdivia 1"– At that name a sudden cry Burst forth, and every lance was lifted high.
Warrior. : “Waldivia!—Earth upon the billet heap; So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep 1" The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim, ** Accursed be his nation and his name.”
Their appalling conference is inter
And folding a white imont in her arms,
To the inquiries of the Chiefs from whence they come, the answer is, that the ship in which the Spanish woman was being wrecked, and the seamen having borne her and her child to shore, they were attacked and massacred by the Indians, leaving these two helpless beings now brought there for the sacrifice. They are saved by the intercession of the Mountainchief. This is the speech of CaupoliCall
“ White woman, we were free,
When first thy brethren of the distant sea
Wilt thou not follow 2 He will shield thy child,—
The Christian's God, through passes dark and wild
He will direct thy way : Come, follow me,
Oh, yet be lov’d, be happy, and be free
But }. an outcast on my native plain,
. The Indian led, till on Itata's side,
Canto the sixth. From the festivities of “ the Castle Hall” Lautaro retires to “ wander by the moonlight sea,” his bosom torn with sad remembrance. A scene of great interest there ensues between him and the unhappy Olola, whom at first he knows not ; but after she had fled, a sudden thought flashes on his mind that he has beheld his sister. Zarinel, whose minstrelsy, meanwhile, had delighted the reveilers, now languid and weary from the past VOL. VI.
gayety, and with a mind at variance, with itself, seeks the shore. , As thus, with shadow stretching Q'er the sand, He mus'd and wander'd on the winding stran At distance, toss'd upon the foaming tide, .. A dark and floating substance he espied. . . He stood, and where the eddying surges beat, An Indian corse was roll'd beneath his feet: The hollow wave retir'd with sullen soundThe face of that sad corse was to the ground; It seem'd a female, by the slender form; He touch'd the hand—it was no longer warm; . . He turn'd its face—oh ! God, that ye * dim, seem'd with its deadly glare as fix'd on him. How sumk his shudd'ring sense, howe dhishue, When poor Olola in that corse he knew Lautaro, rushing from the rocks, advanc'd; #: keen eye, like a startled eagle's, glane!i 'Tis she —he knew her by a mark impress From earliest infancy beneath her breast. “Oh, my r sister! when all hopes were past of meeting, do we meet—thus meet—at last?" Then, full on Zarinel, as one amaz'd, With rising wrath and stern suspicion gaz'd; (For Zarinel still knelt upon the sand, And to his forehead press'd the dead maid's hand.) “Speak 2 whence art thou ? Pale Zarinel, his head Upraising, answered, “Peace is with the dead! Him dost thou seek who injur'd thine and thee? Here—strike the fell assassin—I am he l “Die " he exclaim’d, and with convulsive start Instant had plung'd the dagger in his heart, When the meek father, with his holy book, And placid aspect, met his frenzied look.He trembled—struck his brow—and, turning round, Flung the uplifted dagger to the ground. Then murmurd—“Father, Heav'n has heard thy raw"rBut oh the sister of my soul—lies there! The Christian's God has triumph'd / Father, heap Some earth upon her bones, whilst I go weep!"The seventh canto is taken up with the warlike preparations of the Spaniards, till the final engagement, all which is conducted with great spirit and dignity of expression. The following is the energetic account of the decisive moment: With breathless expectation, on the height, Lautaro watch'd the long and dubious fight: Pale and resign'd the meek man stood, and press'd More close the holy image to his breast. Now nearer to the fight Lautaro drew, When on the ground a Warrior met his view, Upon whose features Memory seem'd to trace A faint resemblance of his Father's face; O'er him a horseman, with collected might, Rais'd his uplifted sword, in act to smite, When the Youth springing on, without a word, , Snatch'd from a sofdier's wearied grasp the sword, And smote the horseman through the crest: a yell Of triumph burst, as to the ground he fell. .. —Lautaro shouted, “On brave brothers, on 1 Scatter them, like the snow !—the day is won! Lo, I Lautaro,-Atacapac's son!" . The Indians rally inspired with fresh courage, attack the enemy anew, and in a few moments the fate of the Spaniards is decided. The shouts of victory ascend—Valdivia is made prisoner. Anselmo, too, is carried away captive, and Zarinel expiates by death his injuries to Olola. The last canto records the fate of the devoted Valdivia, which Lautaro is unable to prevent. The aged and mortally wounded Atacapac survives but to know and embrace his son. The Missionary is preserved, and, in C
o o, it—(when the sons of future days
THE CHRISTIAN AND civic Economy of LARGE Towns, BY THOMAs chal MERs, D. D. *
It is the intention of Dr Chalmers to publish, quarterly, the successive chapters of a work on the comparative habitudes of a city and a country population. The subject is one of mighty importance, and we have no doubt that broad lights will be streamed upon it from his powerful and original mind, lifting up into general knowledge truths that have long been lost sight of even by the wisest philanthropists. We shall have much satisfaction in following Dr Chalmers throughout his interesting inquiries and speculations, and shall endeavour to lay before our readers a condensed view of the leading arguments of each Number of his work. It is well observed by him, in the preface to the first Number, that there is a great deal of philantropy afloat in this our day. At no o perhaps, in the history of the
uman mind, did a desire of doing good so earnest, meet with a spirit of inquiry so eager, after the best and likeliest methods of carrying the desire into accomplishment. Amidst all that looks dark and menacing, in the Fo exhibitions of society, this, at east, must be acknowledged—that never was there a greater quantity of thought embarked on those speculations which, whether with Christian, or merely economical writers, have the one common object of promoting the worth and comfort of our species. It must be confessed, at the same time, that much of this benevolence, and more particularly, when it aims at some fulfilment, by a combination of many individuals, is rendered abortive for want of a right direction. Were
the misleading causes to which philanthropy is exposed, when it operates among a crowded assemblage of human beings, fully understood, then would it cease to be a paradox—why there should either be a steady progress of wretchedness in our land, in the midst of its charitable institutions; or a steady progress of profligacy, in the midst of its churches, and Sabbath schools, and manifold reclaiming societies. The great and leading position which Dr Chalmers advances is this, that the same moral regimen which, under the parochial and ecclesiastical system of Scotland, has been set up, and with so much effect, in her country parishes, may, by a few simple and attainable processes, be introduced into the most crowded of her cities, and with as signal and conspicuous an effect on the whole habit and character of their population—that the simple relationship which obtains between a minister and his people in the former situation, may be kept up with all the purity and entireness of its influences in the latter, and be equally available to the formation of a well conditioned peasantry—in a word, that there is no such dissimilarity between town and country, as to prevent the great national superiority of Scotland, in respect of her well principled and well educated people, being just as observable in Glasgow or Edinburgh, for example, as it is in the most retired of her districts, and these under the most diligent process of moral and religious cultivation. So that, while the profligacy which obtains in every
* Glasgow: Printed for Chalmers and Collins, 18, Wilson Street.
crowded and concentrated mass of human beings, is looked upon by many a philanthropist as one of those helpless and irreclaimable distempers of the body politic, for which there is no remedy—he maintains, that there are certain practicablearrangements which, under the blessing of God, will stay this growing calamity, and would, by the perseverance of a few years, land us in a purer and better generation. I.—The first essential step towards the assimilation of the power and influence of religion, and the character of its ministers, over the population of large towns, to that exercised in country parishes, is a numerous and wellappointed agency. By dividing his parish into small manageable districts—and assigning one or more of his friends in some capacity or other to each of the p—and vesting them with such a right either of superintendance or of inquiry, as will always be found to be gratefully met by the population—and so raising as it were a ready intermedium of communication between himself and the inhabitants of his parish, a clergyman may at length attain an assimilation in point of result to a country parish, though not in the means by which he arrived at it. He can in his own person maintain at least a pretty close and habitual intercourse with the more remarkable cases; and as for the moral charm of cordial and Christian acquaintanceship, he call spread it abroad by deputation over that portion of the city which has been assigned to him. In this way an influence long unfelt in towns, may be speedily restored to them, and they know nothing of this department of our nature, who are blind to the truth of the positionthat out of the simple elements of attention, and advice, and civility, and good-will, conveyed through the tenements of the poor, by men a little more elevated in rank than themselves, a far more purifying and even more gracious operation can be made to descend upon them, than ever will be achieved by any other of the ministrations of charity. Such arrangements as these are peculiarly fitted to repair the disadvantages under which a city, purely commercial, necessarily labours. In all such cities there is a mighty and unfilled space interposed between the high and the low, is consequence of
which they are mutually blind to the
real cordialities and attractions which
belong to each other, and a resentful feeling is apt to be fostered, either of disdain or defiance. To destroy all such unhappy feelings of animosity or repugnance, no better plan can be devised, than to multiply the agents of Christianity, whose delight it may be to go forth among the people, on no other errand than of pure good will, and with no other ministrations than those of respect and tenderness, Nothing, we think, can be more beautiful than the paragraph in which Dr Chalmers winds up this part of his argument. “There is one lesson that we need not teach, for experience has already taught it, and that is, the kindly influence which the mere presence of a human being has upon his fellows. Let the attention you bestow upon another be the genuine emanation of good will—and there is only one thing more to make it irresistible. The readiest way of finding access to a man's heart, is to go to his house—and there to perform the deed of kindness, or to acquit yourself of the wonted and the looked-for acknowledgment. By putting yourself under the roof of a poor neighbour, you in a manner put i. under his protection—you render im for the time your superior—you throw your reception on his generosity, and be assured that it is a confidence which will almost never fail you. If Christianity be the errand on which you move, it will open for you the door of every family; and even the profane and the profligate will come to recognise the worth of that principle which prompts the unwearied assiduity of your services. By every circuit which you make amongst them, you will attain a higher vantage-ground of moral and spiritual influence—and in spite of all that has been said of the ferocity of a city population, be assured that, in your rounds of visitation, you will meet with none of it, even among the lowest receptacles of human worthlessness. This is the homc-walk in which you earn, if not a proud, at least a peaceful popularity—the popularity of the heart—the greetings of men who, touched even by your cheapest and easiest services of kindness, have nothing to give but their wishes of kindness back again; but in giving these have crowned your pious attentions with the only popularity that is worth the aspiring after—the popularity that is won in the bosom of families, and at the side of deathbeds.” II. A second most essential step towards the assimilation of a city and a country parish, is one simple and unembarrassed relationship between the heritors and the kirk-session. Into