« VorigeDoorgaan »
announced the approach of our new go-tings and Countess of Loudon-[by the yernor-general; and the state barges, bye, why not the Earl and Countess of glittering beneath the rays of the rising Moira?] – pleasure and luxury were sun, in gold and purple, glided towards | drained for their welcome. Splendid enthe ghaut, where the members of countertainments followed each other in quick cil, commander-in-chief, and all the lo succession ; and night after night, Calcal authorities, were ready to receive the cutta was radiant with illumination. The celebrated Moira, and to conduct him Free-Masons greeted their grand-master and his lovely countess, with military with a ball and supper in Moore's Rooms, pomp, to the Government-House. His which were, on the occasion, converted lordship was met on the magnificent flight into a scene resembling fairy-land. Their of steps leading to it by Lord Minto, and noble guests reached the point of attracreceived with ceremony and respect. tion through an avenue of artificial fire.
Tall and majestic, the Marquis of Has- | The universal blaze reflected the admirtings makes a lasting impression on eve-ing countenances of groups of Hindoos, ry beholding eye. In his firm step we | whose costume and bearded faces imhave fortitude ;. in his friendly smile we parted romantic life to the whole. Supsee benevolence; and his dark bright per was laid out in a vast square, made to eye conveys to feeling the flash of valour. represent an Indian grove. Lofty palms His flowing black hair fell carelessly on waved overhead their long stems, circled his manly features, and gave a fine shade with wreaths of roses. A fine artificial to his face, as though, at some remote sky finished the scenic deception, in which period, a deep wound had been inflicted the full moon and stars were seen resplenon his cheek. He was dressed in the full dent. Beneath all this earthly grandeur uniform of a general; and nothing was the noble guests were seated, surroundever seen in India more splendid in its ed by the beauty and fashion of the preappearance than his fine suite.
sidency, and they circulated joy and hape Elegant in symmetry of form and as-piness with the glass, while song and mupect, the Countess of Loudon shone forth sic gladdened the heart. the mother of loveliness; and the Hin | This display of that exultation which doos, having heard her ladyship's univer- all classes felt, upon the occasion of an sal fame for benevolence and charity, | arrival so auspicious, was returned at the gazed on her with that rapturous delight | Government-House by magnificent fêtes, with which their forefathers are fabled to and the fastidiousness which had long have received the goddess Gunga, when characterized the society of the Indian she rose all beautiful from the sacred ri metropolis, melted away beneath the ver to relieve their distresses.
charming affability of the Countess of There is in the resignation of power Loudon. Previously to her benign apsomething that excites pity; we behold pearance, harmony had been destroyed him who was the centre of attraction, al- by the rivalship of two great ladies ; one most forsaken, when divested of that belonging, as she thought, to a superior patronage round which crowds had flut-|| | rank in life, and the other fully entitleil, tered. Lord Minto, after remaining in her own opinion, to the highest hosome time at Calcutta, departed, carrying nours that wealth, beauty, and elegance with him no regret, all hopes having could challenge. The former was the been turned to his lordship’s great suc wife of an old civilian, then at the sumcessor.
mit of his hope; sie was a prodigious On the arrival of the Marquis of Has- | personage, both in size and importance, l'ol. VI. No. XXXIV.
without any just pretensions to that ex- i tion of Miss Primrose, to the merits clusive homage which she claimed. Her of those highly gifted females, who, rival was a great merchant's lady, ele- i to the honour of the sex, have exaltgant in figure and accomplished, but with ed and dignified the Muse of poetry pride and ambition enough to set the by their splendid talents. Miss Lanworld in arms. These queens had for a don had already been the theme of long time waged a war of extravagance,
our praise; and Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. which they fondly hoped would be to
Baillie, and Miss Costello were now each other extermination. The four
passed in review before us. The quarters of the globe were visited for
delightful volume recently issued whatever could stimulate appetite, grati. fy delicacy, or attract admiration. The
from the pen of the latter, entitled baleful influence of such division was,
“ Songs of a Stranger,” particularly however, arrested by the attention paid at the Government-House to all classes rose read the following pieces-in of the inhabitants, whose talent and re
tones that fell as sweet upon the ear spectability contributed to the essential as the poet's numbers: interest of Britain's weal.
The palace of the Cappelletti, Captain Primrose. The Marquis
Where Juliet at the mask of Hastings is a noble fellow:1 serv- Saw her lov'a Montague, and now sleeps by ed under him in Flanders, and no
Rocers' Italy. commander, not even our gallant
The palace is a ruin; round the walls Wellington, succeeded better in in The ivy hangs its venerable wreaths, spiring his men with the enthusiasm And birds of uight fit through the lonely
arches which must lead them on to victory.
That echoed once with masic He bas all the virtues, and but few
Of those halls of the faults of an Irishman; and Where the gay maskers Aed like shadows by, when animating his troops to the
In many a strange fantastic shape, and all charge, or leading them on in the
Was mirth and splendour, a few stones rea
- inain! moment of triumph, he looks like the The marble pillars twin'd with perfum'd God of War, descended from Olym
flowers, pus, to induce us poor mortals to vie From whose propitious shade with him in deeds of heroism and
Gazed on the daughter of his enemy; glory.
She, thoughtless who that palmer's robe couSome further extracts were read
ceal'd, from Captain Wallace's work, which
Too early saw unknown, and knew too late
Where are they now? The morning mist may we all agreed was fraught with inter
trace est. When he touched upon the To fancy's eye their visionary forms; very ticklish subject of Irish politics, But day arises, they are there no more. a little demur was made to his senti. Unhallow'd steps have trod the garden's ments on these points, which were Bounds; stoutly defended by Mr. Apathy:
The meanest peasant of Verona strays, but as politics are not a very agree- When the cold, silent moou look'd sadly
Regardless where the youthful lovers met, able subject for the ladies, I shall not ll. down: dwell upon that part of the evening's on all the fatal vows they breath'd that conversation.
night. This discussion ended, we were | The pomp of Montagues and Capulets again led to advert, by an observa- Is faded in obliviou, and their names
llad passed away with time long since no I Miss Primrose. Why you have more,
| never been in love, have you, RegiBut they are made iminortal by their vic. tims.
| Reginald. You must put on a cowl 'There is a broken tomb, that legends say,
1) before I constitute you my father Once held their ashes; years' will come and vapish,
confessor. But I will read the verAnd not a vestige will be left of them: ses I am alluding to. Yet they have endless life and endlego fame
ON THE SEASONS. Through him who told their sorrows.
|| I welcom'd not Spring, for with Spring there SONG,
arose Thy form was fair, thine eye was bright, A storm which beat hard on my agoniz'd Thy voice was melody;
breast, Around thee beam'd the purest light
And wither'd each hope-save the bope of Of love's own sky.
repose Each word that trembled on thy tongue
in that land where rude suffering is still'd Was sweet, was dear to me
into rest. A spell in those soft pombers hung . That drew my soul to thee.
The trees readorn’d in their gay garb of
green, Thy form, thy voice, thine eyes are now The hawthorn-bush mantled with pipkAs beauteous and as fair;
ftudded wbite, But though still blooining is thy brow, Vainly courted my eyes; they shrunk from Love is not there.
a scene And though as sweet thy voice be yet,
Which others could view with enraptur'd I treasure not the tune;
delight. It cannot bid my heart forgetIts tenderness is gone! ..
I welcom'd not Summer; its fruits and its
fow'rs, · Reginald. This is the age of fe- |
That were sweetly delicious and fragrant anale talent; many ladies' names adorn
to some, our literature, and receive the ho- || To me were mementos of happier hours, - mage due to their high deserts; yet
| When thought never dreamt of the evils
to coine. there are many still who are doomed " to bloom unseen and waste their | Nor yet, yellow Autumn, thy gifts could I
prize, sweetness on the desert air." I will
Though thy lap overflowing with plenty read you two or three little effu
appear'd; .sions of the Muse": from correspond- | All was barren avd desolate still to mine ents of my own, in whom the poetic
"The present was wretched, the future was . flame burns brightly, though they
fear’d. have never yet ventured to appear
And now, hoary Winter, begun is thy reign; . before the public in any other shape
The husbandman rests, but no rest is for than as the occasional correspondents of a provincial newspaper. One For still is my bosom the mansion of pain, of these ladies is indeed engaged on No prospect of happier days can I see. a work, which I believe she intends And yet, chilly season, I love thee the best; submitting to the ordeal of public l! Thy 'storms and thy billows a sympathy
bave opinion. Love is its subject, that.
| With the troubles which daily my bosom passion which is indeed universal;
molest, for where is there a manlyor a female | And leave me no hope-save of rest in the heart, which bas not, at one period
grave. or other, beat responsive to the | The writer of these lines, Regi“ voice of love?”
nald continued, lias drunk deeply of
" affliction's cup," and a mournful || My blighted hopes! talents misspent,
I! Which were for better use imparted! sadness pervades most of her verses:
|| Whilst those bright smiles which Fancy lept the following is in rather a merrier
Have fled, and left me broken-hearted! strain :
| Yet there's a bright, a cheering ray,
That beams upon my lonely way.
If such a year as this now spent
Should lure from error's way, Which the former quick discover.
He who the punishment has sent Virtues to llymen's sight are few,
Can cause the " plague to stay:” And evanescent as the dew;
| For“ He who cannot lie hath said, Virtues to Cupid's boodwinked eye
The waves shall not go o'er thy head.” Are num'rous as the stars on high :
Then let the storms of sorrow rage; He sees them not, 'tis true-what then?
For they in mercy are imparted: He acts in this respect like men,
Yes, they are “ blessings in disguise," Who deem their mistresses enchanting,
To lead to Christ the broken-hearted. And find, too late, how much is wantinig.
Then give me grace to kiss the rod, I will now read you a copy of And own the Father in the God. verses written by a young lady, on Dr. Primrose. A pious and praisewhom Fortune appears to smile, and worthy sentiment, which ought to whose temperament seems lively and I rescue much worse lines from obligay: yet she too wooes a melancholy | vion. Muse, as you will find from
Mr. Mathews. As Reginald I find MY BIRTHDAY.
takes the trouble of noting down our diy birthday ! what a mournful theme!
conversations, and recording our opiSince I have seen thy last returning, nions, for one of the fashionable peChang'd is life's early pleasant dream riodicals of the day, his friend's verOf hours of bliss to days of mourning.
ses are secure of not being commitI grieve for visions of hope o'ercast, For joys too exquisite to last.
ted to Lethe's stream. Days of my childhood, ye are gone!
This sally of Mr. Mathews introMy hours of reckless glee are over, duced a conversation upon the me· When prospects bright around me shone; rits of the principal periodicals of
Nor could I one dark cloud discover. The present bright, the future gay,
the day, which perhaps, Mr. Editor, So past the lightsome hours away.
you would not like to insert if I were " The tear forgot as soon as shed ;"
to take the trouble of transcribing. My infant cheek unstain'd by weeping; In one thing we were unanimous, in Hope weav'd a chaplet for my head ; condemning a most heartless expoJoy sooth'd awake, and Peace when sleep
sure of some circumstances connectBut now—these scenes are overcast
ed with that amiable girl, Miss M. Scenes far too beautiful to last.
Tree, or rather Mrs. Bradshaw, which Ye last twelve months, ah! who shall tell lately appeared in an otherwise clever
The ills which on my head you've shed ? weekly journal, It is such articles The loss of friends I've lov'd too well,
which disgrace the public press; it Now mingled with the silenţ dead. Your hours have laden been with sorrow;
Il is such conduct in its conductors that Grief came with every coming morrow : detracts from its usefulness,and makes For I have wept o'er beauty's tomb; it an engine of destruction, instead of
O'er friendship’s joys, too early blighted; one for upholding and preserving the While “ hearts, which sympathy made one,"
courtesies of society. Inroads into By Death's rude hand were disunited. Ah! who would wish to know before
private life are always blameable ; The ills that Fortune has in store?
.but where the object of the attack is
one so amiable, so utterly unobtru- || The zephyr dies: no hope of rest detains sive, so every way praiseworthy, as
The pilgrim there! Yon orb's meridian might
No fragrant bower, no humid cloud restrains. Miss Tree, the perpetrators of the
The solar rays, insufferably bright, fiend-like act will receive, as they Play on the fevered brow, and mock the merit, the indignation of the world.
dazzled sight. The evening was concluded by
NIGHT. reading nearly the whole of a volume
Oh! how the spirit joys when the fresh
breeze, of very elegant poetry by Mr. Ri
The milder radiance, and the longer shade, chardson, with which the circle was | Steal o'er the sultry scene! Through waving generally charmed. A few extracts trees will shew, whether with or without
| The pale moon smiles; the minstrels of the
glade reason. The sonnets we considered
Hail Night's fair queen; and as the day. as displaying much taste and judg
beams fade ment and genius in that very difficult Along the crimson west, through twilight species of writing. The following,
gloom written in India, is not the best, but | The dead repose, the mouruer's hands illume
The fire-fly darts; and where, all lowly laid, it possesses great merit:
The consecrated lamp o'er beauty's ballow'd The storm hath ceas'd, but yet the dark
tomb. clouds lower, . And shrowd the rising sun! The distant hill
With the following verses we were Lies hid in mist; the far-descending rill all pleased; the ladies in particular: Rolls darkly through the valley; this lone
THE VOICE OF LOVE. tower Frowns drearily above the withered bower,
Oh! if there is a magic charm in this low Where sits the drooping Minah, voiceless
To cheat the pilgrim's weary way, the dark. still. Yon blasted tree the gazer's heart doth fill
en's soul to cheer,
| It is the soothing voice of Love, that echoes With awful sense of majesty and power! The mighty spirit of the midnight storm
o'er the mind, Passed where for ages rose the green-wood's ||
Like music on a twilight lake, or bells upon pride ;
the wind ! And what availed its glory? Its proud form, | Oh! dull would be the rugged road, and sad Cast on the grouning earth, but serves to hide
the wanderer's heart, The serpent's dwelling; and Decay's dull Should that celestial harmony from life's dark worm
sphere depart! Soon in its mouldering bosom shall abide.
Oh! how for that far-distant land would sigh AN INDIAN DAY.
the lonely breast, Morn.
Where the wicked, cease from troubling, and Lo! morning wakes upou the gray hill's brow,
the weary are at rest! Raising the veil of mist meek Twilight wore; And, hark! resounding from the tamarind
One more extract, and I conclude: bough
STANZAS. The Minali's matins ring. On Ganges shore l g...! I will not ask thee now The fervent Hindoos welcome and adore
A pardon for my simple lays; The rising Lord of Day. Above the vale | It will not cloud thine open brow Behold the tall Palmyra proudly soar,
To hear my voice of love and praise. And wave his verdant wreath! A lustre pale
Though all on earth to thee I owe, Gleams on the broad-fringed leaves, that
And higher meed thy virtues claim, rustle in the gale,
Thou'lt deem the numbers sweetly flow, • Noos.
That breathe and bless thy name. How still the noontide hour! No sounds arise To cheer the sultry calm; deep silence reigns And think not he, whose faithful heart Among the drooping groves; the fervid skies Dictates the rude but honest strain, Glare on the slumbering wave; on those far Could ever feel one moment's smart plains
!! From the world's coldness or disdain,