The Sun.
London, England, 1847-07-23 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

VOICES PROM TIIE MOUNTAIA S.

B Chles acky. .
Prei. snitz tie yd• to ar
say,M 4lcrnaLL.D
Gcbirge huben,
"Man must have mountains !" So thinks Dr. Charles,
Mackay, and loving the mountains of his native lano
above all others, he gives voices to them and carols
from
the hilltops the truths of this progressive age in
little rhythm of singular beauty. The purpose of his
volume is explained with much elegance in the
prologue," where Alistor, a young Templar, Karl,
Young Rhymer, and Patrick, a young Sculptor,
debate as to the course to be pursued in their pro-
jected excursion to the mountains. After an argu-
ment, through which beams the light of descriptive
verse 2 Ben Nevis is selected as their destination. The
Poet in the fervour of his admiration calls upon the
thyme, the heather, the birch, the pine, the larch, the
flowers " earth-jewels fair," and the torrents that

--- "sing, amid the wilderness, a song
Ofjubilint gladness, when their floods are strong"—
to

"Attest the wild luxuriance of the scene
That lengthened spreads (with many a strath between,
And moorland purple, haunt of birds and bees)
Around the fern-clad feet and shaggy knees
Of mighty
The paramount of mountains, gemmed with as,
Scantily robed ; his Titan-shoulders nude,
Lifting his heart in royal solitude
Above his peers, and looking grimly down
Over all Britain from his misty crown."
From such altitudes as these, therefore, are the
" Voices" presumed to reverberate, and they are
gentle voices, such as would penetrate beyond wider
abysses than separate the mountain from the crowd.
Dr. Mackay always speaks earnestly, and he is
earnest too with the heart's earnestness. The happi-
ness of man seems to him to be in a measure attain-
able with the acceptance of certain universal prin-
ciples such as the principles of general amity and
brotherly co-operation. That happiness he con-
sequently endeavours to bring more within the reach
of his felloW-beings by promulgating those principles.
Such is-visible in the verses entitled "We are Wiser
than we Know" " Let us alone" " The little
181°1"," &C. &c. " The Matt in the Dead Sea" is the
wildest of wild phantasies, but it has the golden ring
°f Poesy. It is penned in a strain of the most intense
passion ; the words burn with meaning ; the agonies
of impotent rage are denicted with a marvellous
Power. But the incident is Wild—preternaturally wild.
ctoioslouaarnito:oifinen of
ng of the versification we transcribe these
the vivid and picturesue
flow from St. Sepulchre ;" thelinet
cell of N the mouth of a wretch in condemnedsheare
supposed
sticklers i.ewyate. Listen to these rhymes you
lor indiscriminate capital punishment !
13,,,A7' you may think that I am crazed,
These
What I saw, that did I see.
Walls are thick, my brain was sick,
And yet mine eyes saw lucidly.
, Through the 'oists and through the stones
. I could look ajs through a glass;
And from this dungeon, damp and cold,
I watched the motley people pass.
All day long, rapid and strong,
Rolled to and fro the living stream;
But in the night, I saw a sight—
I cannot think it was a dream.

"Old St. Sepulchre's bell will toll
At eight to-morrow, for my soul;
And thousands, not much better than I,
Will throng around to see me die;
And many will bless their happy fate,
That they neer fell from their high estate,
Or did such deed as I have done;
Though, fro •
m the rise to the set of san,
They cheat their neighbours all their days,
And gather gold in slimy ways.
Bt nay soul feels strong,andmy
As my dead feels
apprches near,
And in its presence I will tell sight grows clear,
The very truth, as it befel.
" The snow lies now on the house-tops cold,
Shrill, at:d keen the March winds blow;
The rank grass of the churchyard mould
Is covered o'er with drifted snow;
The graves in old St. Sepulchre's yard
Were white last night, when I looked forth, And the sharp clear stars seemed to dance in the s,
uy,
Rocked by the fierce winds of the north.
" The houses dull seemed numb with frost,
The streets seemed wider than of yore.
And the straggling passengers trod, like ghosts,
Silently en the pathway frore,
And th
When I look
braed through that churchyard rail,
And saw _
ouf the bell that should ring my
d
women, sad and pale,
g together on a tomb. doom,
Sittin
" A fearful sight it was to see,
As up they rose and looked at me:
Sunken were their cheeks and eyes,
Blue-cold were their feet, and bare;
Lean and yellow Were their hands,
Long and scanty was their hair;
And round their necks I saw the ropes
Deftly knotted, tightly drawn;
And knew they were not things of earth,
Or creatures that could face the dawn.

.TS
Seen dimly in th' uncertain light,
multiplied upon my sight;
And' things like men and women spring'•-•.
Shapes of those who had been hung—
From the rank and clammy ground.
I,eounted them—l knew them all,
,aell with its rope around its neck,
Marshalled by the churchyard wall.
" The stiff policeman, passing along,
Saw
them not, nor made delay;
A reeling bacchanal, shouting a song,
Looked at the clock, and went his way;
A troop
Laughing
of girls, with painted cheeks,
and yelling in drunken glee,
-Passed liked a-gust, end never looked
At
the sight so palpable to me.
Must
them—heard them—felt their breath
sty and raw and damp as death.
`` These women three, these fearful shapes,
Looked at me through Newgate stone,
-And raised Wtheir fine•ers skinny and lank,
hispering low in under tone:—
,114 hour draws near,—he's one of us,—
114 gibbet is built,—his noose is tied;
TheY have put his name on his coffin lid:
The Live of blood shall be sstisfied.
He shall rest with us and his name shall be
A byword and a mockery.'
• whispered to one, What hadst thou done?'
'''"e answered, whispering, and I heard—
Alth ough a chime rang at the time—
Every sentence, every word,
Clear, above the pealing bells:—
• Was mad, and slew my child;
Better than life "God knows, I loved it;
But pain arid hunger drove me wild.
Scorn and hunger, and grief and care,
And I slew it in my despair.
And for this deed they raised the gibbet;
For this deed the noose they tied ;
And I hung arid swung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.'
"I said to the second, ' What didst thou?'
Her keen eyes flashed unearthly shine.
'I married a youth when I was young,
And thought all happiness was mine;
But they stole him from me, to fight the French ;
And I was left in the world alone,
To beg or steal—to live or die,
Robbed of my stay, my all, my own.
England stole my Lord from me,—
I stole a ribbon, was caught and tried;
And I hung and ewung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.'
"I said to the third, What crime was thine ?'
4 Crime !' she answered, in accents meek,
The babe that sucks at its mother's breast,
And smiles with its little dimcled cheek,
Is not more innocent than I.
But truth was feeble,—error was strong;
And guiltless of a deed of shame,
Men's justice did Inc cruel wrong.
They would not hear my truthful words:
They thought me filled with stubborn pride.
And I hung and swung in the sight of men,
And the law of blood was satisfied.'
"Then one and all, by that churchyard wall,
Raised their skinny hands at me;
Their voices mingling like the sound
Of rustling leaves in a withering tree:
His hour has come, he's one of us;
His gibbet is built, his noose is tied;
His knell shall ring, and his corpse shall swing,
And the law of blood shall be satisfied.'
" They vanished ! I saw them, one by one,
With their bare blue feet on the drifted snow,
Sink like a thaw, when the sun is up,
To their wormy solitudes below.
Though you may deem this was a dream,
My facts are tangible facts to me :
For the sight grows clear as death draws near,
And looks into futurity."
Not, however, in horrors does the muse of Charles
l‘lackay delight. The dells and solitudes of nature
are his welcomer retreats. Notice, for example, the
crescendo ardour of the description of the scene when
the yellow moon was shining, and—
" Beautifully still
Lay Lochlin in his beams—Lochlin whose breast
Wafted so oft the chieftains of the west
To bloody warfare; Lochlin, that of yore
The galleys of the Gael to battle born
Against the men of haughty Innisfail;
Lochlin of storms, where Fingal spread his sail
To meet Cuehullin; Lochlin of the spears;
a.l3lue Lochlin of the songs of other years."
nletimes we regret to see the natural gush of poetic
impeded, as it were, by the very intensity
°I4 the motions el the writer. In the " Drop of
Ambros eia," for instance, he degenerates into the
baldness of saying-
-4,, " Let me alone, nor vex my soul," &c.;
-(" Immediately afterwards he sinks into the vulgar-
18'4 of writing—
" Sad, till I grasp it, the time appear,
.„, Into hours the weeks I'd pack," &C.
W 4"))
" The Follower," be turns a solemn, and