The daily Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1841-1845, 1843-04-11
. ruE KNIcKERBocKER MAGAZINE"

National lutclllKcnCot Vi tuis ttls lhe Wsstes "
scarcely just, however, TO place In ccmparso" WIN
this somewhat disjointed extract fsom MIR 1,less
Forthcoming poem, one OF the moe, finished, most
reflective, aud altogether Of the fines, passages
from Lord Byron's Childe Harold
"Among the poetry, We and pretty enough as,e.
toaal elegy, by ii. j. wooes,s, and an es,,as, f,cw
" Death, or Medoras Dream," b, Rosssi T',.H'
the author Of 81 Ahasuerus,"
II the specimen prove not much too favorable, Mr.
TyLER has greatly improved since his former pro-
ductiop. The mechanism Of his verse Va here nee
from some irregularities aud dOcorisnces That d's-
figured his last poem. THIS passage H. no, only not
unme lodious but presents a succession OF Thoughts
not altogethe inapt The imagery s ~ parts, pleas
ing though proiise that (aecorng TO tina, st'ous
taste of the day. the subject, the leading thought,
continually lost in the accessory ideas, the ius,ra-
lions To a low readers 10 Judge for themselves
further of the merits of this poem, copy from the
knckerbocker the entire eNtrac, as ioilowsi"
MIpsicar is dark,
When through the muik sky the thunder pealsi
Yet heavier, blacker is that sable veil
That DEATH draws DER our unillum,ned orbs,
| A cloud intense whose thick funereal shades
Whrl through the bllowy void from earth TO heaven,
Shroudng our sphere, that star nor sun can reach
| Upon yon lifeless form tire taper CLEANS
| With feeble, sickly ray the shrunken breast
| Feels not the pressure Of the folded hands
Or Graves pale vestment now the pulseless heart
| Must moulder in dull clay, no more to beat
With ardent hopes or love! What matters this
| The CHASTITY drapery Of the dead mans couch,
Or sign of wo, or dissoutions seal
| To him who lies in everlasting sleep'
| Can he find joy in lghtl Shall mornings breath
| Fan his pale brow, flush his cheek again
| Shall dewy twilight, mantling DER the earth,
While sunset fingers the distant mount,
| And viewess spirits In the bamy air
| Hold reyel mid the heecy summer clouds,
| Awake his soul once more, and bid 1t soar
| Up on its snowy wings mid angels there
Night and goes, andDay streams o'erthe east,
| Or like glorious seraph in the west
| Sits on his cloudy pile Of gold and gems,
While man admires, and eath instinct with love,
| Falls into sumber meath that happy smile,
Like a tired child, that sleeps with rosy dreams.
| Alas no ray can pierce his charnel-house!
| The music of the winds, the rustling leaves,
| The song Of birds, the perfume of the morn,
| The bright meridian sun, the azure dome,
Through which the clouds golden wings are borne,
| Where dwell those angel-minsters of love,
| Intent on good who from their vases pour
| The dews and showers that fertilize the land,
| And make it bloom in fragrance gentle eve
| That like dove on silent pinion stoops
| From out the sky and hoyers Ger the wond
| As softly as the ring-dove DER her nest
| Can these again, IN all their happy power
| Invoke a spirit to his fading form,
| Touch his dull BRAIN unbind his frozen heart
Or through his breast transient feeling pass,
To break the changeless slumber Of the gIave'
No-Light no glory hath 10 gid the grave,
| And Times drear flows soundles DER bis
| head.
What matters il to him-the swelling dirse,
The raven plume, the tread Of mutiied feet.
The whispered tone, that fears TO hear Itself,
The agoniZDg cry Of wife or babe,
The prayer, the gasp Of some lone sister sad,
The kneli, the solemn service for the dead
The coffin cod, and faded turf and mound
| nd nm IN rk ~ dark NIECE
These are thy many woes, Barbaric Death;
Darkness and tears, oblivion, ogony,
Are thy remorse!ess ministers of i'll
Sad end thou art, of Natures lustrous course,
And mortal man shrinks meath thy angry frown,
Fen stricken star to ashes turned,
To dust and ashes, where once living rays
Streamed forth in splendor, dazzling countless
WORLDS.
"Perhaps the best way TO settle the question Of the
relative merit of these lines poetry, to try them
by parallel passage Of some writer OF established
fame and the following which embraces like train
of thought, occurs to Us :"
Son Of the morning, rise Approach youhere
me! but modest not yon deienceless urn
Look on this spot-a nations sepulchre,
Tn abode OF Gods whose shrnes no loDge burn.
Fen Gods must yield-Religions take Their turn
Twas Joye's tits Mahomets; and other reeds
Will rise with other years, till Man shall learn
Nanly his incense scars, his victim bleeds:
Poor child of doubt and DEATH whose bpe is built
on reeds
Bound TO the earth, he lift his eye to hcavn
l. it not enough, unhappy thing to know
Thou artS is this boon so kindly given
That, being, thou would'st be again, and g
Thou know'st not read'st not TO what regon, so
On earth no more, but mingled with the She's
Still wilt thou dream Of future joy and wp'
Regard and weigh you dust before il flies
That little urn saith more than thousand htmilies!
Or burst the VANISHED hero's lofty mound
Far on the solitary shore he sleeps.
He fell while conquering nations mournd around
But now not one Of sad nIng thousands weep,
Nor warlike worsbipper his vigil keeps
Where demi-gods appeared, as records tell
Remove yon skull from out the SHATTERED heaps;
Is this temple where a God might DWELL
Why, evn the worm at last disdains her SHATTERED
| cell!
Look on its broken arch, lis ruin'd wall,
Its chambers desoloe, ITS portals foul
Yes this was Ambitions airy hail.
The dome of Thought the chamber Of the Soul
Behold, through each lack-ustre, eyeess hole,
The gay recess OF wisdom and Of wit
| And passions host, that never brook d control
Can all saint, sage, or sophIst ever writ
People this lonely tower, this tenement reht'
"A bad train Of opinions these, certainly but fine
poetry nevertheless"
THr NEw MiRRoR.-We have received the
6rst number Of this periodical. 1t is beautiful in
appearance and refined and interesting in matter 1t
is edited by Gro. Z. MoRss and N. p. WILTSHIRE
same distinguished writers that gave the old Mirror
such a character Surely the New Mirror will have
glorious career The subscription price is 50 per