The Sun.
London, England, 1842-02-03 00:00:00

NORTH OF ENGLAND MAGAZINE.

We have here another first Number of a
monthly periodical, which comprises, among other
contributions, an intelligent paper on the subject
of the "•Manufacturing Population ;" in which
the writer observes, " The question of juvenile
labour is one that concerns the parents infinitely
more than the employers of the children. Ma-
nufacturers have not created the system; it has
been forced on them." Most likely it has;
nevertheless, the manufacturers have it in their
power greatly to ameliorate the evils of the
system, and we hope and trust they will combine
to do so. " Our Political Prospects" gives some
useful hints to the Reformers as respects their
future conduct in Parliament.

THE DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
The intelligent countenance of Dr. Robert
James Graves, Professor of the Institute of
Medicine, adorns the February Number of our
Tory Contemporary's Irish Portrait Gallery. A
Memoir accompanies it, written in a spirit
which must be highly flattering to the living
original of so spirited an etching. " Gas-
par the Pirate" is a clever continuation of a
very startling tale, as malike every-day life,
even in the Indian seas, as possible. Besides
articles, clever in their way, about the Corn-
laws and the Repeal of the Union, there are
some well-written reviews of " Stephens' Ame-
rican Travels.," and the latest volumes of" Rana-
blea in the Pyrenees." From the "Anthologia Ger-
manico.:''llotgaptigthe following extract from Bur-
ges's ballad of flfe'Ataluctiqh. of Lady Gertrude
Von Hochburg—a translation of which was never
before attempted in the English language.
lady's father, a Baron of the Empire, had deter-
mined to bestow her hand upon a more powerful
suitor than the Knight to whom she gave her
heart. On the eve of her nuptials her lover carried
her off, was p ursued by her intended spouse, whom
he killed in fair fight, but when ready to continue
his flight with his fair charge, lie sound himself
surrounded by her father's retainers, led on by
the Baron in person. What followed will be best
told by the poet :
Alas, poor Gertrude ! Who can tell
Her agony of hope and fear,
As, like a knell, each full word fell
Upon.her anxious ear ?
She cast herself in tears to earth,
She wrang her hands till blood gushed forth,—
She tried each fond entreaty
To move her sire to pity.
" 0, father, for the love of Heaven,
Have mercy on your child Forgive,
Even as you look to be forgiven
A guilty fugitive
I am not .—lf I fled from one
Whcm still I cannot chuse but shun
As ruffian-like and hateful,
Oh, call me not ungrateful !
4,1 Think, think how in my childhood's days
lrbitt.tisp,d to take me on your knee,
And sing iflivekil.fonantic lays,
Which yet are dente !
You called me then your hOrgilfgur,44.e ;
Oh, father, cast not now aside
Those hallowed recollections !
Crush not your child's affections !"
Oh, mighty Nature !—how at last
Thou conquerest all of Adam's race !
The Baron turned away and passed
One hand across his face—
He felt his eyes grow moist and dim,
And tears were such a shame in him,
Whese glory lay in steeling
His bosom against feeling !
But, all in vain I—a thousand spears
Pierce in each I,ord his daughter speaks—
In vain !—the pent-up floods of years
Roll down the Warrior's cheeks !
And now he raises up his child,
And kisses o'er and o'er her mild
Pale face of angel-meekness !
With all a father's weakness !
" My child ! I may have seemed severe—
Well, GOD forgive me—as I now
Forgive thee also freely here
All by-past faults I—And thou,
My sun, come hither !"—And the knight
Obeyed, all wonder and delight—
" Since love bears no repressing,
Mayest have her,—with my blessing !
" Why carry to a vain excess
The enmities of Life's short span ?
Forgiveness and Forgetfulness
Are what Man owes to Man.
What, though thy sire was long my foe,
And wrought me Wrong,—since he lies low
Where lie the Best and Bravest,
Peace to him in his clay-vest
" Come I—all shall soon be well once more—
For with our feuds, our cares will cease ;
And heaven has rich rewards in store
e
For those who cherish Peace.
strife—
Clasp—May
of
life
Come,
hcahnidldsrellT n !---hrethis !
Be-benceforth strewn with roses 1"
And here the ballad dos