The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-11-05 00:00:00

THE MAGAZINES.

'Blackwood, like the month in which No. CCXV.
makes its appearance, is somewhat foggy and unenlight-
ened by any extraordinary portion of sunshine. How-
' ever, the statesman or "grave politician" who delights
in tracing effects back to causes, or in predicting the ef-
fects that will proceed from existing causes, will find
some valuable matter to assist him in his studies in " Ed-
mund Burke, Part V 1.," "The First Session of the Re-
formed Parliament," on which subject Fraser also has an
article, and " The Spanish Succession." . We have only
space for an extract from " Spencer, No. I."
No poet that ever lived had a more exquisite sense of the
beautiful than Spenser. Of profounder passion many poets
have been blest or cursed with the power. His were indeed
"thoughts that breathe," but not "words that burn."- His
words have a lambent light. Reading him is like gazing on
the starry skies—or on the skies without a star—except perhaps
one—the evening star—and all the rest of heaven in still pos-
session of the moon. His love of woman's life is spiritual--
yet voluptuous; and desire itself is hallowed, kindling at sight
of beauty "emparadised in such sreet flesh." Nothing mere-
tricious in the Lady of his Lays. Chaste as Dian the creature
of his bridal, his nuptial hymn.

" A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food ;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles."

Such have been the love-lays of all great poets. They feel
as men; but their imagination purifies passion; and poetry,
like religion, hallows the mysterious union of the sexes, till mar-
riage indeed seems a type of a holier union still, when our souls

"Of all this world's encumbrance have themselves assoyled."

and return to their native' heaven.
Do you know that his other Prothalamion, or spousal verse,
made 'in honour of the double manage of the two honourable
and vertuous ladies, the Ladie Elizabeth, and the Ladia Cathe-
rine Somerset?" Oh! if you do not, seek forthwith the stream
down which are seen floating those two swans. A stream it
seems so limpid-pure that it can be flowing but along the skies.
" Paynted all with variable flowers,
And all the Meads adorn'd with dainty gemmes,
Fit to deck Maidens' bowers,
And crown their paramours."
Yet is it flowing -even in this our world, which all who it in-
habit, alas! have often—often felt to be a world of woe. But
there is not on this day "one cloud to stain the blue serene of
heaven." No such thought—no such feeling as fear. Death
is not so much even as a dream. Life is love—and love is bliss
—and bliss, like the shining sky,

" Doth seem immortal in its depth of rest."
Yes—'tis but an earth-born stream—but has not poetry changed
its waters into the light, and the music of heaven ?

" There, in a meadow, by the river side,.
A flocke Of nymphes I chaunced to espy,
All lovely daughters of the flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde.
As each had bane a brvde;
And each one had a little wicker basket,
'Made of fine twigs, entrayled euriously,
. In which they gathered flowers to fill their &Asti
And with fine fingers croptfull feateously
The tender stalkes on bye.
Of every sort, which in that meadow grew.
• They gathered some; the violet, pallid blew.
The little dazie, that at evening closes,
The virgin lilie, and the primrose trew,
With store of vermeil roses,
To deck their bridegroome's posies
Against the brydale-day, which was not long :
Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my song. •
" With that I saw two swannes of goodly hewe
Come softly swimming downe along the lee ;
Two fairer birds I 3,et did never see
The snow, which Moth the top of Pindus strew.
Did never whiter spew,
• Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be
For love of Leda, whiter did appeare ;
Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;
So purely white they were,
That even the gentle stream, the which them bare, -
• Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
To wet their silken feathers, least they might
Boyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre.
And marre their beauties bright,
That shone as Heaven's light,
Against their brydale day, which was not long ;
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my song.
" Eftsoones the nymphes. which now had flowers their fill.
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
As they came floating on the cristal flood
Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed still.
Their wondering eyes to fill;
Them seeni'd they never saw a sight so fayre,
Of fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deesne
Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
Which throtigh the skie draw Venus silver teeme ;
For sure they did not seeme
To be begot of any earthly seede,
But rather angels, or of angels' breede ;
Yet were they bred of somers-heat, they say,
In sweetest season, when each flower and weeds
The earth did fresh aray ;
So fresh they seem'd as day,
Even as their brydale day, which was not long;
Sweet Themmes 1 runne softly, till I end my song.
• " Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
That to the sense did fragrant honours yeild,
All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
And all the waves did strew,
That like old Peneus' waters they did seeme,
When downe along by pleasant Tempe's shore,
Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly they streeme.
That they appeare, through lilies plenteous store,
Like a bryde s chamber flore.
Two of those nymphes, mean while, two garlands bound
Of freshest flowres which'in that mead they found,
'The which presenting all in trim array,
Their snewie foreheads therewithall they crownd,
Whilst one did sing this lay.
Prepar'd against that day,
Against their brydale day, which was not long :
Sweet Themmes ! runne softly, till I end my song.
" Ye gentle birdes ! the world's faire ornament,
And heaven's glorie, whom this happie bower
Doth leade unto your lovers' blissftill bower,
boy you may have, and gentle hearts content
Of your love's complement;
And let faire Venus, that is queene of love,
With her heart-quelling sonne upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, bath vertue to remove
All love's dislike, and friendship's faultie guile
For ever to assoile.
Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearth accord,
And blessed plentie wait upon your bord
And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
Which may your foes confound,
And snake your ioyes redound
Upon your brydale day, which is not 10n.,' :
Sweet Themmes ! runne softlie, till I end my song."
In 1596' Spenser was in London; and then were published,
as we have said, the last three books of the Faery Queen.
Then, too, he presented, to his sovereign the "View of the State
of Ireland," which was first published in Dublin, in 1633, from
a manuscript in Archbishop Usher's library. In 1597 we find
him in Ireland; and, no doubt, it was his intention to pass the
rest of his life at Kilcolman. He was in high favour with the
Queen, who, towards the close of 1596, recommended him to
the Irish Government to be sheriff of Cork. But in October
the rebellion of Tyrone burst forth: Kilcolman was set on fire:
Spenser and his wife fled ; but one of his children perished in
the flames. They found their way to London; and, on the 16th
of January, 1598, in an inn or lodging-house in King-street,
Westminster, died the poet of the Faery Queen !
Till within three months of his death we have seen that
Spenser was a happy man. His own sorrows he must have had
like the least-gifted of his fellow-mortals. Butin his life we
know of no great afflictions. Of his death the circumstances
lie hidden for ever: Camden has said that he returned to Env-
land poor • "in Angliam inops reversus." Ben Jenson told
Drummond that he died in King-street, (Thomas Wharton
mistakenly adding Dublin,) "from absolute want of bread."
Phineas
(etcher, in his Purple Island, (1663,) thus writes:--
" Yet all his hopes were crost—all suits denied;
Discouraged, scorned—his writings villified ;
Poorly (poore man) he lived, poorly (poore man) he died."
And Joseph Hall, 1713, laments,—
" Ah ! me, that after unbeseeming care,
And secret want which bred his last misfare,
His relicks dear obscurely tomhed lie,
Under unwritten stones, that who goes by
Cannot once read, Lo, here ;loth Collin lie!"

•
The author of his Life, in the Biographia Britaunica, says,
" this admirable poet and worthy gentleman had struggled with
poverty all his lifetime." And Pennant says, that in the an-
guish of his soul he composed his " Care of Despair," in the
first book of the Faery Queen ! Perhaps written sixteen years
before his death, when he was secretary to the Lord-lieutenant
of Ireland. Hundreds have taken up the lament for the most
unfortunate Spenser; and his fate has furnished a fertile sub-
ject for commonplaces on the woes of genius.
From all this confusion of error how easy to separate the
truth! Camden says truly, he returned to England, inops. He
never had been rich. The rebels- burnt his house and furniture
—drove away his live-stuck, if there were any—and then he
was poor. What little money he might have had, his travel
and voyage to London eat up, and in that loiging-house his
funds were low. But not one man in a million annually dies
of absolute want of bread even now—not so many then—and that
man could not have been Edmund Spenser. Ben Johnson was
a wide talker over his cups, and part of his story to Drummond
carries falsehood in its face. "He refuses twenty pieces sent
him by the Earl of Essex, and gave this answer to the person
who brought them, that he was sure he had no time to spend
them." That answer was not in Spenser's style. He was no
misanthrope. The world had not used him ill, and he had rea-
sons manifold to be in love with life. Had 'he been starving
"from absolute want of bread," he would have accepted the
bounty of his noble friend, who, with all his faults, knew how
to honour genius—have said, "Give us this day our daily
bread," ate it, and given God thanks. If he knew he was him-
self dying, his Elizabeth was by his bedside, and his two chil-
dren. "That he was sure he had no time to spend them !"
vulgar—and worse, impious words—but his was the finest of
spirits, and most religious. This, then, is a lie, else Spenser
was an Atheist. _ _

All the other fictions need no refutation. Mr. Todd indig-
nantly asks if it be credible that the noble family of Spenser
could" have neglected him, their glory, in his utmost. need?
Scarcely credible--if they knew he was dying of want. But
weeks and months pass on over famished sickbeds, and when
we hear death has been there, we hold up our hands and cry,
"Woisme !" Spenser may have wanted many comforts in
his dying hours. Sad is it to think so. But either believe the
whole story or none of it. Do not believe that he wanted
bread, and that from Essex, the husband of her who had been
the wife of Sidney, he refused with asperity or levity the means
of purchasing it for himself, his wife, and his children. The
people who kept the lodging-house would not have suffered him
so to die, nor the other lodgers ; not even had he been the ob-
scurest stranger, nay, an outlaw under hiding; but unless he
had forgotten in his delirium who he was, ana his Elizabeth
were ashamed to tell it, even "aped dirersorium in platea reqia,
apud Westmonasterium juxta London," a loaf would have been
forthcoming at any hour on the naming of the Poet of the
Faery Queen.
Bet he died of a broken heart! And what broke it? The
loss of his poor child ! No father will believe that; no mother.
God saved his wife from the fire—not a hair on her head was
singed—and she bore away with her from the savage rebels two
children in her arms. Her heart was not broken—why then
her husband's ? With a heart contrite for sin, God and Christ
are well pleased—but not with a heart broken by their dis-
pensations.
" I saw a lovely cottage girl,
She was four years old, she said ;
Her face was Bright with many a curl
That clustered round her head."

Such a cherub the flames may have devoured; but many a
parent has lost many children by water or fire, or fever swift as
the sun.stroke, and by all worst deaths unspeakable andun-
imaginable, yet after many tranquil years have they gone
down to the grave in peace. And could. Edmund Spenser have
found resignation so hard, that, covering his face, he refused
sustenance, cursed God, and died! "Because that we have all
one human heart," let us all feel assured that he died—with his
Blis:;beth.'s band in his—grateful atid trustful to tits rock of ages.

Ilis wife and children were not allowed to starve, though
poorly off; and probably they remained under the care of
Spenser's friends for a few years in London. In March, 1601,
a petition was presented in their behalf, "in regard he was a
servitor of that realme," by the Lords of the Privy Council in
England, to Sir George Carew, Lord President of Munster.
But we know not what was done for the widow. That she re.•
turned to Ireland seems certain ; and friends she must have
had there, for her two sons, Silvanus and Peregrine, grew up.
to man's estate in the condition of gentlemen; and Silvanus
married Ellen Nagle, eldest daughter of David Nagle of Mona-
nirny, in the county of Cork. The Nagles were a family of consi-
derable consequence; and Smith mentions "Ballygritlin, a pretty
seat of Mr. David Nagle, below which is the ruined church of Mo-
nanimy, with a large chancel, and in it a modern tomb of the
Nagles." The grandson of the poet, Hugolin Spenser, after the re-
storation of Charles, was restored to so much of the lands as could
be found to have been his great ancestor's. Peregrine Spen-
ser, the son of the poet, and father of Hugolin, had had part of
the lands of Kilcolman assigned to him -by his elder brother,
Silvanus; but, like his father, had been impoverished by the
troubles of the times. It is pleasant to knew, that though the
family did not greatly flourish, yet they were not more unpros-
perous than their neighbours in that distracted province.
Essex ordered Spenser's funeral. The pall was held by some
of the poets—poeticiiinus ducentibus, says Camden—and he was
buried by the side of Chaucer. About thirty years after his
death, Anne, Countess of Dorset, erected' a monument to his
memory in Westminster Abbey. This is the inscription :
" LYES (EXPECTING THE SECOND COMMINGE OF OCR
SAVIOUR JESUS,) THE BODY OF EDMOND SPENSER, THE
PRINCE OF POETS IN HIS TYME, WHOSE DIVINE SPIRIT
NEEDS NOB OTHIR WITNESSE THEN THE WORKS WHICH HE
LEFT BEHINDE HIM. HE WAS BORNE IN LONDON IN THE
YEAR 1553, AND DIED IN THE YEARE 1598."

Fraser's bill of fare for this month equals in the variety,
richness, and arrangement of his viands some of the best
of his preceding literary treats. The first article consists
of some critical remarks on the Archbishop of Cashel's
(perhaps better known as Dr. Laurence) translation of
"The Book of Enoch the Prophet," from which we sub-
join the following extracts :

The Archbishop of Cashel's excellent version of this most
magnificent of all the apocryphal books has at length reached
a second edition. The fate of a work capable of exciting
so much interest has been, somewhat singular from the begin-
Ping. After the eighth century, though quoted by an inspired
writer, this splendid book, whose majesty, though apocry-
phal, was enough apology for the apostle Jude's patronage,
sunk into unmerited oblivion. 'The unprinted Chronographia of
Georgius Syncellus contained, howe'ver. an ample fragment,
which Scalgier wisely thought fit to publish in his notes to the
Chronicus Canon of Eusebius ; and, before its loss, (as we find
from Fabricius,) it was quoted and alluded to by more than
twenty authors.
There seems to have been a Greek cop
.y of this book—a ver-
sion, probably, from some Hebrew or Chaldee original. The
version of which discovery has been made in our times is Ethio-
pic, to the existence of which allusions occur in writers of the
seventeenth century. Ludolf, in his commentary upon his
History of Ethiopia, remarks, that an Ethiopic tract, supposed
to be the Book of Enoch, had been transmitted from Egypt, and
purchased by Peiresc; for the discovery of which he himself
spared neither expense nor labour. Ile saw in the Royal
Library at Paris a work professing to be the Book of Enoch;
but, on inspection, refused to recognise its claims. It was
reserved for Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, to prove its ex-
istence, by bringing front the utmost south three copies of the
book itself.

Bruce seems to have been in raptures, but soon discerned
that his seed had been sown ou stony ground! Hear him:—
"Among the articles I consigned to the library at Paris,
was a very beautiful and magnificent'copy of the prophecies of
Enoch, in large quarto; another is amongst the books of Scrip-
ture which I brought home, standing immediately before the
book of Job, which is its proper place in the Abyssinian canon ; and
a third copy I have presented to the Bodleian Library at Oxford,
by the hands of Dr. Douglas, the Bishop of Carlisle."
Dr. Woide showed considerable enthusiasm about the matter.
Scarcely had the glorious news arrived in England, that Bruce
had presented this book to the library of the Bing of France,
than Dr. Woide, without staying a few days to give the illus-
trious traveller time to reach London, set out for Paris, with
letters from the secretary of state to Lord,Storinont, our ambas-
sador, desiring him to assist the doctor in procuring access to
the present of Bruce, by his most Christian majesty's permis-
sion. Woide transcribed (Bruce thought he had translated)
the Ethiopic version, and attempted a Latin rendering of a
few detached passages. His imperfect knowledge of Ethiopic
permitted no more.
Dr. Laurence's translation is made from the Bodleian MS.,
which he afterwards compared with Woide's transcript of the
Paris MS., in the possession of the Delegates of the Press; but
the apathy of all parties concerned was extreme. Until Dr.
Laurence, a few years ago, undertook the present translation,
no advantage was reaped by wise or simple from Bruce's mag-
nificent donation to the Bodleian. But when has it not bceu
that "Man wrongs and Time avenges ?" The MS. which
Bruce reserved to himself experienced a somewhat better fate,
for Mr. Murray, the editor of the octavo edition of Bruce's
Travels, gave from it a summary of its contents; and the
learned Silvestre de Sacs}, in a Notice du Livre d'Enoch (pub-
lished in the Mayasin Encyclopedique, an vi. tom. i. p. 38%)
gave a Latin translation of the first three chapters; of all be-
tween the sixth and sixteenth chapters inclusively; and like-
wise of the twenty-second and thirty-second chapters, from the
Paris MS. This translation Dr. Laurence has very rightly
republished, at the end of his own. Dr. Gesenius, of Halle,. in
Saxony, also, has lately been in Paris, for the purpose of pub-
lishing it in Ethiopic, with a Latin version.
Beautiful, therefore, will thy vengeance be, "0 Time! thou
beautifier of the dead!" Dead? Nay, but there was a spirit
of life in this same book of Enoch. Wild and extravagant as
in the main, and apocryphal as undoubtedly the whole of this
book of Enoch is, it must be confessed by every competent
reader to be a work of genius. Mr. Murray originally took a
prejudiced view of the production, calling it "absurd and
tedious." Heaven forfend! Subsequently he changed his
mind, after this fashion :—" The language is the purest Ethiopic;
and the whole book has a peculiar dignity of style and manner
'which imposes on the reader, and impresses on his mind ideas
of its great antiquity." Again ;—" It must be regaded as highly
curious, being the translation of a Greek book long since lost,
which was older than the appearance of our Saviour and the
age of the apostles." Again :—" The narrative is bold and
fabulous, but highly impressive of the sentiments and character
of those speculative enthusiasts who blended the Chaldaic phi-
losophy with the sacred history of the Jews." A remark this,
by the by, which the Archbishop of Cashel observes is destitute
of proof. It is—quite. No doubt, however, rests on the fol-
lowing :—" As a literary relic, it merits attention; and as an
Ethiopic book, written in the purest Geez, and venerated by
the Abyssinians as of equal authority with the writings of Moses,
it deserves to be laid before the public."
The fathers differed upon the question, whether the book of
Enoch were apocryphal; various reasons, on which Dr. Lau-
rence dwells at large, show the work to be not only apocryphal
but spurious. Apocryphal! why, what a word is that ? what
inea.neth it? Verily only this—something to be considered
other than as, and apart from things, inspired. The apocry-
phal are human compositions, separated from those that are
divine. According. to some writers, the books so denominated
were such as were not deposited in but removed apo tes krutes,
(Gr.) from the crypt, ark, chest, or other receptacle in which
the sacred books were kept; or, more probably, from apokrupie,
(Gr.) because they were concealed from the generality of read-
ers— their authority not being recognised by the Christian
church. These works are, doubtless, destitute of proper testi-
monials, their original is obscure, their origin unknown, and
their character is either heretical or suspected. But their chief
distinction is that of not being divine ; books not in general
circulation. And what are such books in ordinary cases?
Either works altogether worthless, or imitations, which, though
excellent, are swallowed up in the reputatinn of their models ;
as all such ever are. But are, then, the original works that live,
and are immortal, always and every where inspired ? Is not
Shakspeare divine? ? Dante? Tasso ? Virgil? Homer?
We confine the question principally to poets, because they of
all the followers of the Nine, chiefly claim inspiration. Why
not? Is nut the mind itself an inspiration? Is not man him-
self a revelation ? Through what, save and except human agency,
may news •f the invisible world come to man? What reveals
Nature to herself? Only to the Spirit in a human form has she
a tale to tell—only to his questionings. And then answers she?
Nay, but out of her silence it is that the Spirit shapes the re-
sponses—even as he will: What reveals she to him, in silence
or eloquence—her silence the most eloquent of all things—what
reveals she to him thus? Himself! She is to him but a watery
mirror, and he the Narcissus of the stream;_ loving, admiring
his own mysterious image in the reflecting deep—an inverted
heaven ! She is to him the Echo, who pines for the self-wor-
shipping Narcissus; her voice is but the rebound of his own.
Every man who knows how, iu verse or prose, statue, picture,
or music, to give permanence to such evauescent image, so that
it shall live for him when he has left the glassy river;—to catch,
the rebounding word, and enshrine it in his memory, so that he
can bear it away with him to future time,—every one such is a
poet, or a man inspired, an artist, or a divine person. He it is
who creates and turns to shape. The airy nothing? No; but
the most substantial something—his own identical self ! From
that great whole of phenomena which fools call nature, but
which the wise know to be only that of so many modifications
of our own several being, he constructs a world and is hero, the
Creator-creature' Author and Saviour, Demi-god and Man ?
But what is he himself, who is- thus a universe and its great
egotist, its only dweller—all in one ? Recollects he the time
when he was not? No, surely. Is he, then, the Eternal?
That, or the image thereof. For this is all he knows, that he
is ; being and knowing, in the identity of knowledge and being.
Thus is he manifested to himself, and all other things to him:
But every manifestation supposes a manifesting power. Is he
that power ? Of this he hath no consciousness ; yet of this he
is conscious, that, although no manifestation, perhaps, come
but by an act of the will, vet, that every manifestation he would
effect comes not always at the call of the will : neither will it
always depart. Pleasure will not ever come at demand, nor
will pain go away at biddding.
It being quite clear, therefore, that the book in question is
spurious, written under an assumed name, and the supposition
of an assumed date, we shall take leave to look upon it as a
poem. In this light it comes again under the category of apo-
cryphal, as being clearly not altogether an original either in
style or sentiment, but an imitation, written, as far as the author
might, in the spirit of the books of the Old Testament. Now, it
is a remarkable fact, and shows how superior inspiration, whether
poetic, or religious, or scientific, is to learning, in all cases, that
in imitations it is generally the faults that are copied, rather
than the real beauties of the model. The imitators of Sir Walter
Scott and Byron, of Milton and Pope, all endeavoured to catch
the eccentricities of their respective originals, rather than those
better qualities in which they moved in harmony with the uni-
versal laws of the beautiful and sublime: Thus our pseudo-
Enoch affects the transcendental in style and argument, in
which two apparent contradictions may both be true, that so
much distinguishes the Hebrew Scriptures. Ile is also fond of
prophetic visions, and prefers the incongruous and out of nature
to the simple and ordinary. Goats and rams and kiue crowd his
pages, manifest supernatural horns, and perform wondrous antics.
Ile makes nothing of generating elephants, camels, and asses,
by the union of fallen stars with young cows. All this is not to
dream, but to feign dreaming.
In other respects the ;work deserves the character of an origi-
nal poem—we allude to its general abstinence from miracles,
and the spirituality of its agency. Written for a carnal genera-
tion, the Hebrew 'Scriptures are corporeal and fleshy.; they are
of " the earth, earthly"—though, doubtless, also of the heaven,
heavenly. But the infinite and eternal is symbolised in them
by the intuitions of time and space. For such is the universal
order of man's cultivation, as regards the race ' • first the natural,
and afterwards the spiritual. The whole of the Book of Enoch
is so spiritual, that it might have been written by Immanmiel
Swedenborg. Not in the body, but in the spirit, happen all the
wonderful timings that chance to Enoch. In the Hebrew Scrip-
tures, the angels are frequently mistaken fur human mortals :
thus Lot and Abraham entertained gods unawares. But there
is no mistaking the angels of Enoch. They arc indeed the
creatures of those, strong passions or.gentler sympathies which

Byron, in his Heaven and Earth, has so well set forth in the
characters of Aholihamah and Anah.
Poor Allah! all her fear is that Azaziel cannot by his natare
" sympathise" with her
With me thou canst not sympathise,
Except in love. and there thou must
Acknowledge that more loving dust
Nc'er wept beneath the skies.'
This craving fur sympathy marks her character her doubt of it
shows the depth of the sentiment. Who ne'er doubted; mover
laced.

" Yet, seraph dear ?
Oh hear !
For thou has loved me, and I would not die,
Until I know that I roust die in knowing
That thou forge..tst in thine eternity
Her whose heart death could not keep from o'erficalting
For thee, immortal essence as thou art!"
Such is her gentle character—the child of sympathy—a feeling,
though deep and strong, yet tranquil, in comparison with the
turbulent passion that casts out volumes of lava from the volcano
of Aholibamah's heart.

Samias !
I call thee, I await thee, and I love thee.
Many may worship thee—that will I not f
If that thy spirit down to mine may move thee;
Descend and share my lot !
Though I be formed of clay,
And thou of beams
More bright than ,those day
On Eden's streams,
Thine immortality can not repay
With love more warm than mine
My lore. There is a ray
In me, which, though forbidden yct to shine,
1 feel was lighted at thy God's and seine.
It may be hidden long : death and decay
Our mother Eve bequeathed us—but my heart
Defies it : though this life must pass away.
Is that k cause for thee and me to part?
Thou art immortal—s saml : I feel,
I feel my immortality o'ersweep
All pains, ell tears, all fears, and peal,
Like the eternal thunders of the deep,
Into my ears this truth, ' Thou liv'st for ever !'
But if it be in joy
I know not, nor would know ;
That secret rests with the Almighty Giver,
Who folds iu clouds the fonts of bliss and who.
But thee and me he never can destroy.
Change us he may, hut not o'erwhelm ; we are
Of as eternal essence, and must war
With him if he will war with us : with thee.
I can share all things, even immortal sorrow ;
For thou hast ventured to share life with me,
And shall /shrink from thine eternity ?
No ! though the serpent's sting should pierce me thorough,.
And thou thyself wert like the serpent, coil
Around me still! and I will smile,
And curse thee not ; but hold
Thee in as warm a fold
As—but descend; 'and prove
A mortal's love
For an immortal. If the skies contain
More joy than thou canst give and take, remain!"

The gallery of literary characters is enri; Iced by an
etching of Miss Harriet:Martineau, a lady of the Mal-
thusian school, whose extravagancies in the political
economy line are tolerably well known; and, as if re-
solved "to damn to everlasting fame" two first-rate
quacks of the feminine gender, at one and the same time,
the editor has selected "Dramatic Scenes," by Lady
Morgan, for dissection, or, perhaps, to show the mini-
mum of talent that will suffice for modern authoress-ship.
"The Miller Correspondence " is an amusing paper,
containing letters from thirty literary, political, and sci-
entific characters, in reply to inquiries addressed to them,
by an autograph hunter, for the purpose of obtaining
answers and signatures. We will not vouch for the
genuineness of all these letters; but, if they are not
original, they have at least the merit of being highly
characteristic.

PROCLAMATION BY CIIOO, THE LIEUTENANT-
GOVERNOR OF CANTON.—MAncti, 1833.

(From the Canton Register of April 13, 1833.)
Choo,—an attendant Officer of the Military Board; a Member
of the Court of Universal Examiners • an Imperial Histo-
riographer and Censor ; Patrolling Examiners;
of Canton; a
Guide of Military Affairs; and Comptroller of the Taxes—
Hereby issues a proclamation for the purpose of correcting
public morals; and delivering strict admonitory orders. In the
act of government, moral instructions and the infliction of pu-
nishments are mutually assisting. But punishments should
come after the act; instructions should go before. That neither
should be neglected has long been decided.
Two years have elapsed since my arrival at my official sta-
tion iu Canton, and I have observed the multitudinous robbe-
ries and thefts therein. Streets and lanes are never tranquil.
Daily have I led the local officers to search and seize, so that
we have not had strength for anything else; -but the spirit of
robbery has not, even till now, ceased. This has arisen from
my detective virtue ; the smallness of my ability; and the ine-
quality in my conduct of majesty and mercy. I feel ashamed
of myself.
But I consider that luxury and extravagance are the causes
of hunger and cold; and from thence robberies and thefts pro•
ceed. The learned gentry are at the head of the common peo-
ple; and to them the villagers look up. If they do not sin-
cerely and faithfully issue educational commands, to cause the
public morals to revert to regularity and economy' so that sons
and younger brothers may gradually learn to be sincere and
respectful, then, where is that which has long been considered
the best device for a radical reform and a source-purifying pro-
cess in a country. Availing myself of this doctrine, I Shall
select a few of the most important topics, and proclaim them
perspicuously below.
First—Exhortations and persuasions ought to be extensively
diffused.
The national family has appointed officers from provincial
governors and lieutenant-governors down to district magistrates,
who hold the station of guides and shepherds; and Whose duty
it is equally to renovate and to lead the people. How can they
throw their faults off on other people? Although sons and
younger brothers may be deficient in respect, it is because
fathers and elder brothers have not previously taught them.
And how can the learned gentry in villages and-hamlets, lanes,
and neighbourhoods, shut their eyes or view occurrences as not
concerning them? The teaching of the magistrate is inter-
rupted by his being sometimes present and sometimes absent.
The teachiug of the learned gentry is continuous by his cots
stant presence. Here he was born ; and here he grew up. He
is perfectly acquainted with the public morals—what is benefi-
cial and what is prejudicial. Moreover, he knows perfectly
the roots of the mulberry, which join neighbours' houses: and
the altar tree, whose shade is common to all. And, still more,
he feels every pain and pleasure that is felt by any of his clan.
To fathers, he can speak of tender beartednesa ; to suns, he
can speak of filial piety.: He can exhibit his instructions ap-
propriately to every man, and convey them delicately in the
slightest conversation. With half a word he can dissipate an
intricate feud. It is easy for him to avail himself of his influ-
ence, and persuade to what is right.
Learned gentry read the useful books of sages and worthies;
and for the national family they should be useful men. If to-day
they are living in the country instructors of morals and exam-
ples of propriety, another day they will fill official stations;
following- what is good and obtaining the highest,recompense.
Being abroad and at home makes a temporary difference, but the
incumbent duty in both stations is the same. At.-home mani-
festing the principles of good government, is also' being in the
government.
Since I, the soother of the people, came to my present office,
I have for two years observed and investigated the stage of
things among thetpeopleut-Casston. I have looked at their airs,
and inquired about their customs. I have secretly indulged
intense sorrow, and been filled with extreme regret. And for
nothing more than to see useful property thrown away for use-
less purposes; to see limited strength wasted on projects from
which no benefit could accrue. In country places the lasting
occupations of husbandry and mulberry culture are still attended
to with a spirit approaching to simplicity; but, iu the town of
Canton,.at Fuh-shan, and at all the
.places where markets are
held, an official people lived, there is a strife and emulation to
exceed in gaity and extravagance.
At every anniversary of the birth-day of -a god; or when
plays are performed at masses for departed shades; or thanks-
givings given for divine energies exerted in behalf of any one •
or grateful processions with prayers are carried round—all of
which are what propriety does not interdict—but every ono
wants to boast of much, and to fight for great expense; one imi-
tates another, and in a worse degree. Some even go to the
extreme of erecting lofty and variegated pavilions; and for a
great distance rearing flowery palaces. Fire trees and silver
flowers fili the streets and atop the lanes. Men and women
assemble
:promiscuously, greatly to the detriment of the public
manners. The sums expended must be reckoned.by thousands
and tens-of-thousands. And in a few days, the whole is of no
snore use than mire and sand, and is thrown away, like a child's
grass dog (toy). Moreover, a blast may set on tire, and cause
a conflagration, which will occasion the resentments of myriads
of families. It cannot be that these things emanate from tire
wishes of the many.. They must be led into error by "divine
vagabonds," (who make a pretext of serving the gods to serve
themselves.)
Consider—the shopmen in a street all live by a little trade ;
their origin not bigger than a fly's head ; their end a mere trifle
and the profits they gain are small. But, in a moment, it it
vent on wind and flame, and thrown away ou useless regrets.
Heaven's ways hate self-sufficiency : demons and gods abomi-
nate a plenum. To consider such services as prayers must be
followed by divine reprehension.
I, the Lieutenant-Governor, am in my own person economical
is m
and simple, that I may be an example to the pcople •
sincere desire to make my nursing to consist in giving no trouble;
and to teach by my own mode of living. This Is what you
learned gentry and common people all know, and all have seen.
Hereafter, when any anniversary of a god's birth-day (secure;
there is no objection to your going to a temple to suspend lan-
terns, and hang up ornaments, offering sacrifices with abundance
and cleanliness.
But, as to the street exhibitions, you must not listen to the
divine vagabonds, who make pretext to collect money, and
gather together men and women promiscuously. If such people
assemble, the district constables and street seniors must be re-
sponsible. The learned gentry arc permitted to proceed sum.;
manly, and report them to the local magistrate for punishment
—to pull back again the people from the regions of sterile
custom.
As to all cases of assuming the cap, (or toga,) marrying
wives, or burying parents, with the sacrificial rites attendant
thereon—whether poor or rich—all should have a tender feeling
' for commodities; and a tender feeling for subsequent enjef-
ment—(i. e. avoid all waste.) The said learned gentry also'
should substantiate the wish of me, the Lieutenant-Governor, to
correct the people, and instruct them in morals; should advise
them to substitute plainness= for-uxtravagance, and by economy
nourish wealth ; so that the 'people of a year of plenty may so
hoard that plentiful year's wealth, that the people of year of
scarcity may look up to a year of plenty's accumulations,Would not 'this be beautiful"! Ali! government love to the
people is not so good as the people's love to themselves! Would
the people but love and compassionate their civil persons andfam►lies,
families, where would he the occasion of their waiting till other
persons laid plans for thein ! And if reciproeally acting they
thus formed the " wind" (the fashion,) they might govern
sweetly, and never know discomfort.
Using these topics, I have lucidly and intensely proclaimed
them, that all Wright hear acid know; wishing that none will
tread the steps of their former iniquities; but all practise to the
utmost good morals.
Taou-kwang, 13th year, Ist moon, 23-d day.—(March 14,
1E433.) •

In the year 1691 the sum of £66,600 was paid for bounty on
the expoitation of corn, and corn continued to be exported from
this country till about the year 1764. In the year 1754 the
quantity exported was 1;080;077 quarters; and the bounty paid
£964,340. In 1769 a change occurred; the imports exceeded
the exports by 233,184 qsnarters, and we have continued im-
porters ever since. In 17b9 the population was nearly 9,(0(),060
souls

••• ••••• I ~..••••••• 41441••• V 11.414111,. gut., ll 1,1•1.10•11. J• 1.1.11,••• •
his is no !nista -ing t angels of Enoch. They arc Indeed the lmrters ever since. 1769 the population was nearly 9,(XX.),0EX1
saes. creatures of those. strong passions or gentler sympathies w Lich sQuis•