The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1842-11-08 00:00:00

our fears ;
A solace wert thou, lovely one ! Above a grave of mine
Methought thy tears would fall; alas ! I now weep over
thine.

And when—oh ! far beyond thy years—thy searching spirit

sought
In song and story the rich gem which lofty Genius brought,
Oh ! what a whirl of joy was ours to dream what time would
bring—
_ _

To think how bright thy summer when thus budding was
thy spring !
Then, as the circling year's return thy birthday brought
again,
Far distant were all auguries of sorrow or of pain.
We saw thee bright, we knew thee dear, nor thought that
there could be
The mortal taint of ill or death in aught so fair as thee.

That was a holyday of love the circling year brought back,
In which we traced, beloved one t thy travel in life's track

We kept that birthday joyfully, which now again we keep,
With all the tenderness of love, and struggle not to weep;
We talk of thine endearing ways, and of thy gentle mirth,
Which sunn'd our hearts, as if there were no sorrow on the

earth.
Many a heart-memoried word of thine, oft-named, again we

trace,
And many a burst of joy, which breathed sweet music o'er

thy face. _
If then our converse falter into silence still and deep—

Grief's hushed silence—do not deem it is because we weep.
Too strong for words, too deep for tears, the feelings that

arise,
When Faith Moth whisper—Now thou hast thy birthday in
the skies.

If in that radiant spirit-land where, sinless one ! thou art,
Thy mind can earthward turn, and read the thoughts that

stir the heart,
Then thou dost know, though strong our grief as human grief

can be,
We would not, if we could, renew Mortality for thee.
Brief was thy pilgrimage below—too brief to feel its strife—
Death to thy soul the birthday brought of an Eternal Life.
Enfranchised one! whose place is with the Watchers round
the Throne,
It is for frail Humanity to mourn that thou art gone ;
But Faith instructs us, whatsoe'er our crush'd affections,
pain,

Unkind or vain to wish for thee the chains of earth again

For, far beyond the world of care thy soul bath stretch'd its
wing ;
Thou sittest by Life's holy fount, and drinkest from its spring.
A brighter bloom is on thy cheek than what on earth it
wore,—
A heavenlier lustre lights thine eyes than what they had of
yore.
A richer melody doth blend its music with thy voice,
As it swells in praise before the throne,—and should we not

rejoice ?
Thou hast gone home, departed one !—chainless, thou art,
and free ;
We linger for that second birth which brings us unto thee,—
Where, beautiful ! thine angel-plumes are folded on thy

breast,
And the cares of earth are ended, and the weary are at rest.

R. S. M

Dublin University Magazine.

November, 1842. Dublin

William Curry, jun., and Co

Always amusing and instructive are the contents of this
periodical; and the present number is not deficient in these
characteristics to any of its predecessors Jack Hinton the
Guardsman—but of him we have spoken in a previous publi-
cation. "An Hours' Talk about Isaac Walton," furnishes
a very pleasant hour for the reader, provided such reader
have a spark of taste and feeling about him, or has ever spent
a day, voluntarily, in nature's solitudes, with rod in hand,
and nature's gorgeous book spread out before his eyes.
Honest Isaac ! The world, the reading world even, and least
of all the dwellers in towns, know thee not, or, if perchance
they have ever heard of thy name, they imagine it to belong
to some horrible old man, whose enjoyment was the con-
templation'of a worm impaled upon a hook, or a poor trout
panting its last upon the green sod. How little they know
of glorious Isaac Walton ! But what has all this to do with
our notice of the Dublin University ? Proceed we to
" Recollections of a Poetic Childhood"—and here we must
confess oar inability to sympathise, or comprehend, " Poetic
Childhood." poetic fiddlesticks ! But we must not quarrel
with a name, for the verses themselves, are graceful and
beautiful.. "The Husband Lover" is commenced in this
number, and promises to be a good tale, and what is better,
to be concluded in another number. We abhor—begging
the editor's pardon— these "continued" articles. They
render magazine reading a perfect nuisance. But we must
not quarrel with the " serials." No. IV. of the " Kishoge
Papers" is like numbers L, 11., and 111., most excellent.
The conclusion of the review of " Alison's French Revolu-
tion,"discrimination and judgment.
is written with great
Such a commentary ought t to accompany such a history.
" Letters from History,' candour
compels us to confess,
we have not read, and we dare say, we shall not do so. Such
gossiping memorials are not to our taste ; but the " Memoir
and Remains of Charles Wolfe" we can read. Of such a
man we would gladly learn even the most trifling particulars.

Handy .Andy. By Samuel Lover

It is said that " night brings chickens home to roost."
So it may be asserted that the close of the year brings 4. se-
rigs" to their conclusions. Handy Andy is evidently in, this
condition : though bow in one number the artist-author will
be able to tell out the love tale of Fred O'Connor and Fanny
Dawson sufficiently at length to please those who delight in
tales of love—

" Love, that pleasant phrenzy of the mind"—

we cannot tell. But if any thing clever is to be done, Lover will
do it. In the present number we find the professor or ori-
ginator of the Coldairian system again brought before us.
The following laughable account of his proceedings is equal
to any thing going; the words we have italicised top Olym-
pus in sublime-absurd. Moriarty, an old friend in the story,
is famous for his " stretchers." Loftus is introduced to
him as a colonel, who had seen everything, and been every-
where :

As the party became more convivial, the mirth began to
assume a broader form. Tom Daily drew out Moriarty on
t . ,g;',.: .f his services, that the mock colonel might throw
v-, /fn., t'a ' - vement into the shade; and this he did in the
, :shot r ~ ~ ~ er, bet mixing so much of probability
1
.. ~; .I#*9o :T.9 25 ton, that those who were not up to the
,4 ~ ~;... --, . .6'urn to be a t'erY great romancer; while
i Iff, ward , . .. ',were in Loftus's confidence exhibited a