The Sun.
London, England, 1842-10-13 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

THE BE TR 0 THE D. Cadell, Edinburgh, 842.=
This is a publication, in a compact, neatly
printed ibur-shilling volume, of Sir Walter
Scott's tale of the •‘ Betrothed," which, if we re-
member rightly, was among the least popular of
his works of fiction. The tale is also reprinted
in an octavo form, and both editions contain all
the notes and introductions that were appended
in the series which NV brought out in 1830,
under the author's active, personal superin-
tendence.

FATHER OSWALD. • Dolman, London, 1842.
" Father Oswald" is an answer to a work that
appeared some time ago, under the title of
" Father Clement," and which was an attack on
the Catholic doctrines, which were objected to
with no little earnestness ; the present tale,
which professes to be an antidote to that baneful
production, of course takes the other side of the
question, and defends Catholicism in an eloquent,
impressive, and, at times, convincing spirit. As
a tale, it has little or nothing to recommend it,
being almost wholly devoid of incident; but, as
a controversial work, it possesses strong claims
on the attention of the theological student.

THE ARAB BRIDE. Bull, London, 1642.
To those who maintain that the present age is
a dull, mechanical, matter-of-fact one, utterly
destitute of poetic feeling and fancy, we would
respectfully recommend an attentive perusal of
" The Arab Bride," which will convince them
of the fallacy of their hypothesis, and induce
them—however reluctantly—to acknowledge that
a genius for the exalted and imaginative still lin-
gers among us, and that we possess at least one
poet not unworthy to chirp on the loftiest heights
of Parnassus. the " Arab Bride" is indeed a
truly surprising production, and so far as eccen-
tricity of sentiment, description, and imagery is
concerned, exhibits peculiarities, which—to quote
the elegant language of George Robins—are
" more easily conceived than described." That
we are unable to comprehend some of its more
recondite beauties, is by no means to its discre-
dit, fbr obscurity is a source of the sublime, and
from the' very ambiguity of his language, and the
vague, exquisite incongruity of his startling me-
taphors, is to be inferred the author's possession
of genius, of the sublimest order. Like . most
great poets, tie rushes at once into the heart's
core of his subject, and introduces his hero' o us
in the midst of a thunder-storm, *bich it seems,
is playing some awkward tricks with a vessel in
which he is a passenger The storm must be a
very ferocious one, if we may judge from the fol-
lowing description :
‘rlV9ught now is heard save the billow knocking
'CTainst the barque's hull, now diving, now rocking,
Or the sea bird's wild and shuddering scream,
As she wingeth past, like some thing of dream ;
The wind no longer a moan as before,
Runneth through each shroud with a hollow roar,
And driveththeprow through each maddening wave

Which yawns fir her prey like a hungry grave."
After the prow of the vessel has been well
ducked—and the passengers too, we presume—
by the " maddening wave," the thunder and
lightning comMence business on their own ac-.
count, and get up a very pretty skrimmage, as
is duly set forth in these bewildering couplets :
" Hark, on the welkin that low, clanging boom,
The thunder, the thunderbath burst from the womb!
He comes on his hot and fiery steed,
He tears up the turf of Heaven's inky mead,
And darts through the jagged rent that snaky flash,
Which runs through the mast with a hideous crash,
And drags the torn hull 'neath the hissing sea,
Down into the depths of immensity !
From the whirling eddy a fearful scream
Is sent up for help to the pale moonbeam ;
But she smiles on each wretch struggling for breath,
A torch to light them to the realms of death."
Mercy on us what a sketch ! The shipwreck
in Don Juan is a mere joke to it I We say no-
thing of the extraordinary picture of the thunder
cantering on horseback along the sky, and tear-
ing up the " turf" of its " inky mead ;" but
!nark the harrowing description of the
drowning sailors, singing ' out to-• the-- moon,
and asking her it she will be good enough
to lend them a helping hand, to which
modest. and natural request she makes no
other reply, than by a cold, heartless smile,
which it appears is intended to do duty as a
" torch," and light the- mariners to Davy Jones's
locker !—When the ship sinks, all the crew sink
with it, except one, who is of course the hero of
the tale, and answers to the name of Morad.
Now this Morad, while swimming about in—
what Jonathan would call—" a very con-
siderable pretty particular state of perplexity,"
suddenly comes in contact with a raft—a most
unexpected but welcome godsend, by the aid of
which he contrives to keep himself afloat :
He drags each weary limb upon its side,
A Heaven-sent home where he may safely

Now deeper and longer each valley- grows,
Higher and higher are each mountain's snows,
While the heaven above is a dome of fire,
Through which the thunder wanders in mad ire.
After floating about for some hours on the
raft, during which embarrassing period he is
filled with all sorts of strange fancies, besides
losing his precious eye-sight,
" His sight is ta'en away, he cannot tell,
Whether he is going to Heaven or Hell !"
After being thus tempest-tossed for the best
part of four-and-twenty hours, Morad is for-
tunately cast ashore on a lonely island, where
he instantly falls asleep, which gives the author
a❑ opportunity of describing the various
beauties, of the island in question. It is, it
seems, crowded with " soft palm trees," and is
the sole property of
" Ali, once of Bedouin band the Lord,"
who, however, has been disowned by his tribe in
consequence of his having wedded, " contrary to
law," a young gentlewoman named Stella,by whom
he is the father of one daughter, named Zamora,
a remarkably good-looking girl, and whom he is
anxious to marry to " Kaled," chief of the
Bedouin band which has ostracized him. Ac-
cordingly he proceeds to sound the young
woman on the subject, and finds her standing
near a vt aterfall, watching the little fishes, and

weeping :
" The lash that hides the heavenly fire from sight,
Is dewed with tears, and dark as darkest night,
And rests upon a cheek whose velvet die
The pomegranate's best bloom could never vie ;
That brow so soft with its arches below,
As if the God of Love, on the pearl's glow,
Had traced with finger, steeped in henna's ;lie,
A fairy hall, whence he might safely fly
His fleetest arrows thro' the maiden's eye."
The picture of the God of Love standing in a
" fairy hall,". built with his own " finger," and
taking aim witha bow and arrow at a lady's eye,
is a very impressive one, and deserves praise for its
rare originality! While Zamora is weeping, and
thinking of her absent sweetheart, who, strange
to say, is no other than our shipwrecked friend,
Morad,

" A hand on hers is laid,
She starts and turns her eye, is't thou, my Sire ?' "
Ali's reply is business-like, and remarkable
for the absence of all ceremony,
" Who else could it be ? he replies in ire."
He then proceeds to tell her that she must
make up her mind to marry Kaled, which of
course adds not a little to her tribulation, and
she wanders away to the sea-shore, still brooding
over the recollection of Morad, when on a sud-
den, to her infinite astonishment, she finds the
very man himself; lying, to all appearance, on
the sands, as dead as mutton ! With some diffi-
culty she restores him to life and con/ciousness,
after which the impassioned couple renew
their vows of eternal constancy, and go wander-
ing about the island arm-in-arm, in a very happy
and excitable frame of mind. But this does not
last long, for one fine morning,
" Kaled came,

Asked for his bride with haughty words, not tame ;
Hurried her weeping from her sunny isle,
Gave her for tears a horrid, sickening smile;
And when she asked some time to bid farewell
To each loved stream, her fawn, her shady dell,
Her father interfered, and mildly said,
Perhaps we may return, when thou art wed.' "
This was very ungentlemanlike conduct on di%
part of Kaled and Ali ; but Morad is one of those
fierce fellows who will stand no nonsense, so off lie
goes after Zamora and her uncivil companions,
overtakes them as they are sailing away from the
island, and engages in a desperate conflict with
them, which ends, as might be anticipated, in his
own death, and that of his idolized sweetheart.
From this brief summary of the leading incidents
of the "Arab 13ride," our readers will see that it
must be a very heart-breakipg production 5 and