Star.
London, England, 1829-11-02 00:00:00

ACKERMANN AND THE ANNUALS.

We have received several of these delightful volumes—
the BIJOU, the FORGET ME NOT, the JUVENILE FOR •
OET ME NOT, and the GEM. The last has been already
noticed in our columns; but it yet remains to pay our
tribute of admiration to the others. Of these, not less
from its own intrinsic merits, than because it is the parent
of the numerous tribe of Annuals, the Foao ET ME Nor
is in every way entitled to precedence. Indeed, whether
we consider the exquisite finish of the engravings, and
the fascination of the subjects which they represent.--or
the taste, power, and elegance of its contributions, diver-
sified with every variety of style, and enriched with every
originality of thought—the FORGET ME NOT does not
shrink from a comparison with the most beautiful of its
progeny. Some of its rival daughters, exceeding it by
far in stature, have dazzled us this year with a display
of finery on a larger scale : but—regard being had
to proportions, and the great difference also in price
remembered—there is not a gem in all this bandeau of
anniversary literature more chaste and brilliant than the
FORGET at E NOT. In contemplating the perfection to
which this little Volume has arrived, and the competition
to which it has given birth, it is impossible not to ac-
knowledge the obligations which we owe to the public
spirit and enterprise of Mr. Ac EIL MAN/1. He it was,
who first—by his liberal encouragement—drew round
him meritorious and neglected genius, and concentrated
into one focus so much of the scattered talent of the
country : his was the glory to open this new field for
their expatiation, where national taste skims annually the
cream of wit and poesy, and the fine arts intermingle in
emulous concurrence.

The FORGET m E NOT 18 embellished with fourteen
exquisite engravings : among these, Undine—by WAR-
REN, from the inimitable RETZSCH—and the Exile, by
PORTBURY, from a painting by STEPHANOFr—the Int-
provisatrice, by RoxiNEY, from Bow e—and the Flower
Girl, by ROBINSON, from GA UG Al N—deserve to be
particularly mentioned. If we do not speak in such
detail of the BIJOU, it is because our space—not
our inclination—warns us : it is, perhaps, one

fourth less voluminous than the FORGET ME NOT;
and its embellishments are only nine in number—
but both in the Fine Arts, and the Literary depart-
ment, it exhibits elegant proofs of its confraternity. The
portrait of MILTON composing Paradise Lost, esteemed
by many RS the chef d'oeuvre of STOTH A RD, is engraved
here in a style of beauty which has all the effect of
painting, by ENSOM ; and Lady JANE GREY, from a
painting by DE H SERE, is rendered equally striking by
the fine hand and correct execution of DEAN. The
portrait also of a living beauty—Mrs. ARBUTIINOT
enriches this collection, engraved by Ewsom, from Sir
THOMAS LAWRENCE ; and smiling upon us with the
same irresistible power as from the canvass of that magic
painter, fairly confounds in our worshipping hearts
all distinctions of party-politics. The following ef-
fusion—contributed by our gifted friend, CHARLES
BRINSLEY SHERIDAN—IS characteristic of his peculiar
style :

SILENCE.

Frost the Foaort sa NOT.

IT CHAZLIS 111111111111101, 2141.
Weigled with the eloquence of Silence, Sound,
With all its varied charms is weak and vain ;
If thqre are tones by which the heart is bound,
". Silence infuses deeper bliss or pain :
The last, for months, my fretful breast has found;
The first, methinks, it ne'er will feel again.
When youthful hands, and eyes, and feelings meet,
In that prolong'd and soul-subduing pause,
Silence is Converse, dangerously sweet ;
Aid while the speechless Pair more deeply draws
The breath, and hears each heart responsive beat,
In Passion's sunbeams Prudery's frost-work thaws.

The mutest signs possess a language still,
A language framed, enervatingly strong,
To fetter Reason, drag the manly will
In unresisting slavery along,
Quench Virtue's vestal flame, and quickly fill
Life's cup with infamy for venial wrong.
And ob ! the pangs of Silence—thy by day
Creeping along, with still tle unanswer'd prayer!
As gradual darkness grows on evening'. ray,
Doubt, fear, and wonder detp•ning to despair;
Till, as the dawn prepares the Enlightener's way,
Come Truth, more clear and chill than morning's air.

When Fancy's idols base were lips and eyes,
She soon found others prompt to mile and roU !
Sick of such treacherous chase and paltry prise,
The wearied Mind appreciates sense and soul,
Pines with more grief than PaNsion's selfish sighs,
And drains regrets, the dregs of Sorrow's bowl.

MILTON DICTATING TO HIS DAUGHTERS.
Front tee Buoy.
What pride is on that brow! but not the pride
By lordly power or youth's wild hope supplied;
For deep'ning clouds around his fate are roll'd,
And be is friendless now, and blind, and old.
Yet not his spirit quails before the power
Of this cold world, when comes his loftier hour ;
In holier vision, when his sight grows clear,
And Heaven's own music fills his !lensing ear :
Hark! the full tide of inspiration rolls,
Thund'ring with mighty voice ; and o'er our souls
Comes awe, deep awe :
Before our tranced sight
Float glorious visions—angels cloth'd in light,
And demons dreadful in their guilt are there,
Fall'n and yet angels; ever doomed to bear
The curse of GOD within them,—terrible forms
Scared by the bolts, and darkly girt with storms.
And see, within that bow'r in silence laid,
Two human forms ate slumbering in the shade,
The first, the fated pair....and o'er them beams
A billowing light, for Goo is in their drrams,
A laugh, a horrid laugh ! HeU triumphs now,
And sin's dread mark is fixed on mortal brow,
And shame weighs down the heart—a lew'ring gloom
Falls on the soul in that hush'd hour of doom.
Hark ! the load trumpet.!

But the trance is o'er—
And that deep voice is musical no more;
Closed is his gorgeous vision, and again
His spirit seeks the haunts et earthly men.
His reverent daughters mark his changeful face,
And the last fading rays of glory trace
Left by his Heavenward musings,—and once more
Milton is desolate, and blind, and poor.

From, the JUVENILE FORGET ME NOT our limits
will not permit an extract : but it is a charming and'ap-
propriate present for young people, and in the style—as
weU as subjects of its embellishments—quite worthy of
the taste and spirit, as it is suited to the laudable .design,
of its ingenious projector.