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What, then, must he do? He must throw the interest on the murderer. Our sympathy must be with him (of course I mean a sympathy of comprehension, a sympathy by which we enter into his feelings and are made to understand them—not a sympathy of pity or approbation). In the murdered person all strife of thought, all flux and reflux of passion and of purpose, are crushed by one overwhelming panic: the fear of instant death smites him "with its petrific mace." But in the murderer --such a murderer as a poet will condescend to-there must be raging some great storm of passion-jealousy, ambition, vengeance, hatred-which will create a hell within him; and into this hell we are to look.

4. In Macbeth, for the sake of gratifying his own enormous and teeming faculty of creation, Shakspeare has introduced two murderers; and, as usual in his hands, they are remarkably discriminated but, though in Macbeth the strife of mind is greater than in his wife-the tiger spirit not so awake, and his feelings caught chiefly by contagion from her,-yet, as both were finally involved in the guilt of murder, the murderous mind of necessity is finally to be presumed in both. This was to be expressed; and on its own account, as well as to make it a more proportionable antagonist to the unoffending nature of their victim, "the gracious Duncan," and adequately to expound "the deep damnation of his taking off," this was to be expressed with peculiar energy. We were to be made to feel that the human nature, i. e., the divine nature of love and mercy, spread through the hearts of all creatures, and seldom utterly withdrawn from man, was gone, vanished, extinct; and that the fiendish nature had taken its place. And, as this effect is marvelously accomplished in the dialogues and soliloquies themselves, so it is finally consummated by the expedient under consideration; and it is to this that I now solicit the reader's attention.

5. If the reader has ever witnessed a wife, daughter, or sister in a fainting fit, he may chance to have observed that the most affecting moment in such a spectacle is that in which a sigh and a stirring announce the recommencement of suspended life. Or, if the reader has ever been present in a vast metropolis on the day when some great national idol was carried in funeral pomp to his grave, and chancing to walk near the course through which it passed, has felt powerfully, in the silence and desertion

of the streets, and in the stagnation of ordinary business, the deep interest which at that moment was possessing the heart of man,-if all at once he should hear the deathlike stillness broken up by the sound of wheels rattling away from the scene, and making known that the transitory vision was dissolved, he will be aware that at no moment was his sense of the complete suspension and pause in ordinary human concerns so full and affecting, as at that moment when the suspension ceases and the goings-on of human life are suddenly resumed.

6. All action in any direction is best expounded, measured, and made apprehensible by reaction. Now apply this to the case in Macbeth. Here, as I have said, the retiring of the human heart and the entrance of the fiendish heart was to be expressed and made sensible. Another world has stepped in, and the murderers are taken out of the region of human things, human purposes, human desires. They are transfigured: Lady Macbeth is "unsexed;" Macbeth has forgot that he was born of woman: both are conformed to the image of devils; and the world of devils is suddenly revealed. But how shall this be conveyed and made palpable?

7. In order that a new world may step in, this world must for a time disappear. The murderers and the murder must be insulated-cut off by an immeasurable gulf from the ordinary tide and succession of human affairs-locked up and sequestered in some deep recess'; we must be made sensible that the world of ordinary life is suddenly arrested-laid asleep-tranced-racked into a dread armistice: time must be annihilated; relation to things without abolished; and all must pass self-withdrawn into a deep syncopè1 and suspension of earthly passion. Hence it is, that when the deed is done, when the work of darkness is perfect, then the world of darkness passes away like a pageantry in the clouds: the knocking at the gate is heard, and it makes known audibly that the reaction has commenced: the human has made its reflux upon the fiendish; the pulses of life are beginning to beat again, and the reëstablishment of the goingson of the world in which we live, first makes us profoundly sensible of the awful parenthesis that had suspended them.

.1 Syncope, (singko pe), a fainting or swooning; a diminution, decrease, or interruption of the motion of the heart, and of respiration,

accompanied with a suspension of the action of the brain, and a temporary loss of sensation, volition, and other faculties.

8. O mighty poet! Thy works are not as those of other men, simply and merely great works of art, but are also like the phenomena of nature-like the sun and the sea, the stars and the flowers, like frost and snow, rain and dew, hail-storm and thunder,-which are to be studied with entire submission of our own faculties, and in the perfect faith that in them there can be no too much or too little, nothing useless or inert; but that, the further we press in our discoveries, the more we shall see proofs of design and self-supporting arrangement where the careless eye had seen nothing but accident. DE QUINCEY.




E nymphs of Solyma!' begin the song-
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus' and the Aöniän maids,'
Delight no more-O thou my voice inspire
Who touched Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire!
2. Rapt into future times the bard began :


A virgin shall conceive-a virgin bear a son!
From Jesse's root behold a branch arise
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies!
Th' ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
And on its top descends the mystic dove.

3. Ye heavens! from high the dewy nectar pōur,
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid-
From storm a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail;
Returning Justice lift ǎloft her scale,

1 Sŏl'y ma, another name for Je


2 Pin' dus, a lofty range of mountains in Northern Greece.

'Aonian maids, the Muses, So

called, because they frequented Mt.
Helicon and the fountain Aganippe,
which were in Aonia, one of the
ancient names of Baotia.
'Isaiah, (i zà' yå).

Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.

4. Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
O spring to light! auspicious babe, be born!
See, nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring!
See lofty Lebanon his head advance ;

See nodding forests on the mountains dance;
See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!

5. Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers:
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!
A God, a God! the vocal hills reply-
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives Him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains; and ye valleys, rise!
With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay!
Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way!

6. The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold—
Hear Him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behōld!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day;
'Tis He th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear;
The dumb shall sing; the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear-
From every face He wipes off every tear.
In ǎd'amǎn'tine chains shall Death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.

7. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air,
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs He raises in his arms-
Feeds from His hand, and in His bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind His guardian care engage—
The promised father of the future age.

8. No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes;
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a plough-share end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun ;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,

And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field.
9. The swain in barren deserts, with surprise,

Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late ǎbodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods;
Waste sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn :

To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.

10. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead :
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake-
Pleased, the green luster of the scales survey,
And with their forked tongues shall innocently play.

11. Rise, crowned with light, impērial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
See future sons and daughters, yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend;
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,
And heaped with products of Sabean' springs!

1 Sa bē' an, pertaining to Saba, in Arabia, celebrated for producing aromatic plants.

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