The Sun.
London, England, 1830-05-01 00:00:00

BRITISH MAGAZINE.

Incomparably the best number we have yet
seen of this popular Magazine. All the ar-
ticles are good, and one or two of first-rate
excellence. The Reviews also are penned
in a fine discriminating spirit, combin-
ing sprightliness and acuteness with a stinging
caustic power. Among the original articles we
may select for especial praise the one entitled
" A Visit (supposed to be made in the year
2,000) to the Grand National Cemetery in
the Regent's Park." The idea is eminently
felicitous, and is worked out with no less
skill and grace. We quote a few of the epi-
taphs ; they are characteristic and elegant, and
in the polished turn of their irony remind us
not a little of some of the numerous produc-
tions of the late lamented Mr. Canning.
Next to this monument is a magnificent tablet, bearing
the following inscription

" Erected by a-grateful nation
in memory of the
Rt. Hon. William Cobbett, M.P.
Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Mild and unassuming in his manners,
actuated by the purest integrity and uncompromising priueiplcs,
the private virtues
of this distinguished patriot and philosopher,
kept pace with his public abilities.
Gifted with the profundity of a Bacon,
and the philanthropy of a Howard,
he was of course a mark
for the shafts of calumny and abuse.
Yet though he possessed a mind singularly sensitive,
be endured his wrongs in silence.
He never insulted an enemy,
and never lost a friend.
But the qualities that chiefly elevated him above mankind
were Modesty and Disinterestedness.
He saved,
not only his country, but Europe and America,
when nobody else could,
for the trifling sum of sixpence—
the price of his Register."
_

Beneath this appears an interesting design, the princi-
pal feature, in which is a gridiron ; and scattered about
are fragments of platted grass and Indian corn.

Under a statue of Scott, who is designated the " Shalt-
speare of Prose," are placed the subjoined lines :-
6, With a genius as perfect as free from pretence,
He boasted that strangest of things—common-sense.
A fine equanimity marked him throughout;
You would scarcely believe that he heard of a doubt.
His mind was as full and as fervent as spring—
Yet he seemed not to know that he had such a thing.
Perceiving—with all due respect for the sky—
Mankind made for walking, he strove not to fly.
The wonders of earth they awoke no surprise,
For he knew what they were ere he opened his eyes.
'The ocean could charm him, the mountain still more;
But he wisely sat still—he had seen them before.
Yet, looking on nature with natural eyes,
He degraded his spirit with doubts and disguise.
The northern Enigma, the Sphynx of his day,'
The monarch of marvels now melted away,
He quibbled, coquetted, enraptured the town,
And often like Cesar rejected the crown ;
Till wonder worn out he stood forward—the sage,
The wizard, the star, of the worshipping age!
The being that burst, like a bird from its shell,
And went winding and weaving a magical spell ;
Entwining—while fairies glide round him in dance—.
The grey head of Wisdom with golden romance."

The monument beside this is covered with innumerable
rolls of paper, repealed Acts of Parliament, and numerical
calculations. There are some thousands of bills to be read
a first time, two or three to be read a third time, and one
positively passed. An epitaph to the following effect sup-
plies an explanation of the device :
" Motionless within the tomb
Lies what once was Mr. Hume;
Statesman, who by heart could get
Every figure of the Debt!
Human ready-reckoner,
He was never known to err,
But his soul—how could it be ?
Hung so long on L. S. D.,
He forgot—or listeners lied—
All the alphabet beside;
Though he rose to move and speak
Twice ten thousand times a week.
Death at last a motion made—
That our friend should leave off trade
That to dust he should be married ;.....
No division—question carried.
put consistent, faithful still,
Mr. Hume opposed the bill;"

The eye next rests upon a square stone, perfectly free
frum ornament, but covered with curiously cut characters
that resemble neither the Greek, Chinese, or Sanserit.
As far as I could decipher them they run thus:—
" In honour of Robert Owen,
the Prince of Parallelograms, the Architect of Aerial CAstles.
and the Hero of good Intentions.
After geeing ail his plans understood
and acted upon,
he retired to his cottage,
near the North Pole;
where he introduced order and sociality
among the Bears.
and prepared his code of laws for the government
of St. Luke's.
This marble was raised to his memorf
by the inhabitants of a It4fiatic AgnuTll
in 4evr Hartnony;"

My attention was then attracted by a monument pre-
senting some very curious anomalies—a medley that would
have evited laughter if the feeling had not been repressei
by popompt. There were hymn-hooks and broken
glasses ; sprites in lawn sleeves; and in the midst sat a
Moinus with a mitre on his head. The inscription be-
neath interpreted the allegory—
" This stone is all that is left
of the Random Records of tieorgc Colman the Vaungex,
Dramatist and DepUty Licericei.
His Broad .ribs areCollased in the narrow tomb,
his farce has ended in a funeral,
and his bottle of red ink has sunk in the Red Sea.
He was a monopolist of indecency.
Adorning his dramas with oaths,
and his tales with the coarsest licentiousness,

he expunged from the melo-dramas of the day their legitimate
interjections ;
and banished Good tleavens ' from tho stage„
as an atonement for his early traiisgl4Ssioii.
'Mil wit liavltik 'peove.d insolvent,
he grevi disgusted with the profligacy of society,
, and became a monk.
On this character
he punished himself by a daily perusal of his own rhymes ;
and died devoutly of a bottle of claret,
. .

which he had piously inflicted on himself as a tienance,"

This is succeeded by one of a more graceful character.
A female figure is sitting at a window, reading a book by
the light of a star, while a large lamp is burning en a
table at a convenient distance. Her air is elegant and
unaffected. A wreath, which seems worn carelessly,
circles her forehead, In the curling stem of a honeysuckle
that winds alopg the marble, you may clparly discern the
initials!' L. E. L.," together Willi the following epitttph
A beauty, a feMing, an instinct divine,
A thirst afteiloveliness; breathed in her line.
A rose or a rainbow, a lily, a lute—
If these were in sight she could never be mute.
If she looked on an eye, or an exquisite cheek,
Or a lip—'twas because she could print them next week.
A whisper of music, a glimmering light,
She des-:ribed74ill one echoed, the other grew bright.
Still dreaming of sunshine and (loath's; on hue,
She fancied bright-scarlet a species oftlue.
But nature, who never intended that-she'
Should pluck the Sublime from the depths of the sea,
The Beautiful only designed her to trace—
An infant's pure glory, and womanly grace' •
To sing of lie„ its broken and wounded in lot,
And to charm and take captive all those that were not."