Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

riven;

But the Christian, made wise by a wisdom divine, Yet there was comfort in that dguth-bed scene. Though all human fabrics may faulter,

Piety, resignation, hope, faith, peace Still finds in his heart a far holier shrine,

All that might render such an hour serene, Where the fire burns umquench'd on the altar! Attended round, and in the slow decrease

Of life's last ling'ring powers, for calm release This may, we presume, be consider

Prepard the suff'rer; and, when life was flown, ed to be a genuine Quaker poem; and Though not abruptly could our sorrows cease, it is not on that account the more truly We felt that sorrow for ourselves alone; poetical. The author, in our opinion, Not for the quiet dead, around whom there was

thrownis unfortunate in the measures which he has adopted in several of his composi

Calinness, as 'twere a canopy: the spirit

Seem'd, like the prophet in his parting hour, tions. They are like. Burns'; and

(When he threw back, to him who was to inherit more congenial to light, or at the ut His gift, the mantle, as his richest dower,) most, to common, than to grave subjects.

To have left behind it somewhat of the power “ Meditations in Great Bealing's

By which the o'ershadowing clouds of death were Church-yard,” is in a much better style,

So that, round those who gaz'd, they could not and possesses a pathetic tone of suita lower ble melancholy

With rayless darkness ; but a light was given Then art thou such a spot as man might choose

Which made e'en tears grow bright: "'twas light For still communion : all around is sweet,

from heaven!" And calm, and soothing; when the light breeze woos The lofty lines that shadow thy retreat,

The subjoined Sonnet to “ Winter," Whose interlacing branches, as they meet,

and Monody, will be found of similar O’ertop, and almost hide the edifice They beautify; no sound, except the bleat

merit. of innocent lambs, or notes which speak the bliss of happy birds unseen.

Thou hast thy beauties: sterner ones, I own,

Than those of thy precursors ; yet to thee Yes, thou, stern Death ! art, after all, the best

Belong the charms of solemn majesty And truest teacher, an untlattering one,

And naked grandeur. Awful is the tone And yet we shun thee like some baneful pest.

Of thy tempestuous nights, when clouds are blown In youth, we fancy life is but begun :

By hurrying winds across the troubled sky; Then active middle-age comes hurrying on,

Pensive, when softer breezes faintly sigh And leaves us less of leisure ; and, alas !

Through leafless boughs, with ivy overgrown. Even in age, when slowly, surely run

Thou bast thy decorations too; although The few last sands which linger in the glass,

Thou art austere: thy studded mantle, gay We mourn how few remain, how rapidly they pass.

With icy brilliants, which as proudly glow

As erst Golconda's; and thy pure array But 'tis not thee we fear, if thou wert all;

of regal ermine, when the drifted snow Thou might'st be brav'd, although in thee is much To wither up the nerves, the heart appal:

Envelopes nature : till her features seem Not the mere icy chillness of thy touch,

Like pale, but lovely ones, seen when we dream.
Nor nature's hopeless struggle with thy clutch
In tossing agony: in thyself, alone,

STANZAS.
Thou hast worse pangs ; at least I deem them such, we knew that the moment was drawing nigh,

Than any mere corporeal sense can own,
Which, without future fears, might make the bravest

To fulfil every fearful token;

When the silver cord must loosen its tie, groan.

And the golden bowl be broken ; For, wert thou all, in thee there is enough

When the fountain's vase, and the cistern's wheel, To touch us to the quick: to part with all

Should alike to our trembling hearts appeal. We love, might try a heart of sternest stuff, And in itself would need what man could call

And now shall thy dust return to the earth, Of strength and courage ; but to feel the thrall

Thy spirit to God who gave it; or rending ties twine closer round the heart ;

Yet affection shall tenderly cherish thy worth, To see, while on our own eyes shadows fall

And memory deeply engrave it, Darker, and darker, tears of anguish start,

Not upon tables of brass or stone, In lov’d-ones looking on us ; saying, “Must we part!" But in those fond bosoms where best 'twas known. This is indeed enough. I never stood

Thou shalt live in mine, though thy life be fled, But once beside a dying bed; and there

For friendship thy name shall cherish ; My spirit was not in the fittest mood,

And be one of the few, and the dearly-lov'd dead, Perhaps, to be instructed, save TO BEAR!

Whom my heart will not suffer to perish; And this is somewhat to be taught us, where

Who in loveliest dreams are before me brought, We fancied it impossible: I say

And in sweetest hours of waking thought. But once it yet has been my lot to share

But oh! there is one, with tearful eye, Such scene ; and that, though now a distant day, Whose fondest desires fail her ; Convinc'd me what it was to pass from life away. Who indeed is afraid of that which is high,

!

And fears by »way Assail her ;

In order to show how accurate an Whose anguish confesses that tears are vain,

observer of nature in its most captivaSince dark are the clouds that return after rain!

ting forms Mr. B. is, we conclude with May HE, who alone can scatter those clouds, Whose love all fear dispelleth ;

a few lines from Playford, a descriptive Who, though for a season his face he shrouds, poem—they are very like Wordsworth.

In light and in glory dwelleth,
Break in on that mourner's soul, from above, And grassy and green may the path be seen
And bid her look upwards with holy love.

To the village church that leads ;

For its glossy bue is as verdant te vier The following is one of our favour As you see it in lowly meads. ites: and for a fine lesson told in an And he who the ascending pathway scales,

By the gate above, and the mossy pales, easy and affecting manner, deserves to

Will find the trunk of a leafless tree, be transplanted into books framed for All bleak, and barren, and bare ; the instruction of youth,

Yet it keeps its station, and seems to be

Like a silent monitor there:

Though wasted and worn, it smiles in the ray
THE IVY.

of the bright warm sun, on a sunny day; Dost thou not love, in the season of spring,

And more than once I have seen To twine thee a flowery wreath,

The moonbeams sleep on its barkless trunk, And to see the beautiful birch-tree fling

As calmly and softly as ever they sunk Its shade on the grass beneath ?

On its leaves, when its leaves were green; Its glossy leaf and its silvery stem;

And it seem'd to rejoice in their light the while, Oh! dost thou not love to look on them?

Reminding my heart of the patient smile And dost thou not love, when leaves are greenest,

Resignation can wear in the hour of grief, And summer has just begun,

When it finds in religion a squrce of relief, When in the silence of moonlight thou leanest,

And stript of delights which earth had given,
Where glist'ning waters run,

Süll shines in the beauty it borrows from heaven !
To see, by that gentle and peaceful beam,
Tbe willow bend down to the sparkling stream?

From “Recollections,” evidently
And oh! in a lovely autumnal day,

inspired by a real grief, we take our When leaves are changing before thee,

last quotation; and to that add our last Do not pature's charms, as they slowly decay, remark--that the author displays not

Shed their own mild influence o'er thee? And hast thou not felt, as thou stood'st to gaze,

only a goodness of heart, but a vivid The touching lesson such scene displays ? perception of natural and moral beauIt should be thus at an age like thine :

ties, and possesses a command of lanAnd it has been thus with me;

guage to clothe his views in pleasing When the freshness of feeling and heart were mine, and instructive verse.

As they never more can be:
Yet think not I ask thee to pity my lot,

Oh, there are hours ! ay moments, that contain
Perhaps I see beauty where thou dost pot.

Feelings, that years may pass and never bring; Hast thou seen, in winter's stormiest day,

Which, whether fraught with pleasure or with pain, The trunk of a blighted oak,

Can hardly be forgot: as if the wing Not dead, but sinking in slow decay,

of time, while passing o'er, had power to fling Beneath time's resistless stroke,

A dark’ning shade, or tint of happier hue, Round which a luxuriant Ivy had grown,

To which fond memory faithfully should eling And wreath'd it with' verdure no longer its own?

In after life: I felt, and own'd it true, Perchance thou hast seen this sįght, and then,

While I stood still, and look'd upon that moonlight As I, at thy years might do,

view, Pass'd carelessly by, nor turned again

I thought of some, who once beheld, like me,
That scathed wreck to view:

The peaceful prospect then before me spread;
But now I can draw, from that mould'ring tree, And its still loveliness appeared to be
Thoughts which are soothing and dear to me.

One of those visions morning slumbers shed
O smile not ! nor think it a worthless thing,

Upon the pensive mourner's pillow'd head! If it be with instruction fraught;

Its beauties, less distinct, but far more dear, That which will closest and longest cling,

Seem'd to invoke the absent, and the dead! Is alone worth a serious thought!

And by some spell to bring the former Dear, Should aught be unlovely which thus can shed

Although it could not call the latter from their sphere. Grace on the dying, and leaves not the dead?

Nor did I wish it.—No, dear Mary! no: Now, in thy youth, heseech of HIM

How could I ever wish thou shouldst resign, Who giveth, upbraiding not,

For any bliss this being can bestow, That his light in thy heart become not dim,

Pleasures eternal, deathless, and divine: And his love be unforgot;

Yet, when I saw the pale moon coldly shine And thy God, in the darkest of days, will be,

On the same paths and turf which thou hadst trud, Greenness, and beauty, and strength to thee ?

Forgive my vain regrer!-Yet, why repine ;

1

Its beams sleep sweetly on thy peaceful sod, And thou thyself

hast sought thy Father and thy God. For thou wert number'd with the “pure in heart,"

Whom Christ pronounced blessed ! and to thee, When thou wast summon'd from this world to part,

We well may hope the promis'd boon would be Vouchsaf’d in mercy...that thy soul should see

Him, whom the angelic hosts of heav'n adore ; And from each frailty of our nature free,

Which clogg'd that gentle spirit heretofore, Exulting, sing His praise, who lives forevermore! Farewell ! thou lov*d and gentle one, farewell !

Thou hast not liv'd in vain, or died for nought!

oft of thy worth survivors' tongues shall tell,

And thy long-cherish'd memory shall be fraught With many a theme of fond and tender thought,

That shall preserve it sacred. What could years,
Or silver'd locks, of added good have brought

Unto a name like thine ? Even the tears
Thy early death has caus'd, thy early worth endears!

We ought to refer to “ Sleep,” “A
Dream,” and

“ Leiston Abbey,” as other agreeable examples of the Quaker Muse, which we heartily and kindly bid “ farewell!”

BROWNE'S LAST TRAVELS.

Oriel College

From the Literary Gazette. WILLIAM G. BROWNE was Having determined on proceeding in

the son of a respectable wine to the interior of Africa by the Egypmerchant in London, the descendant of tian route, Mr. Browne lest England an ancient family of that name in Cum- in 1791, and in the January following berland, and was born on Great Tower arrived at Alexandria. After a two Hill, July 25, 1768. His constitution months residence he took a journey was originally feeble, and his health westward into the Desert, to discover during infancy precarious. He was the unknown site of the temple of Jueducated privately till he went to Oxford piter Ammon. He followed a cirat the age of seventeen, and entered of cuitous route along the sea coast to the

Here he applied him- Oasis of Siwah, where his atwntion self to classical reading, made some was attracted by the remains of a reprogress in the mathematics, and took markable and very ancient edifice of a wide range in miscellaneous literature. Egyptian architecture, respecting which On quitting the university he entered tradition was entirely silent. Though at the Temple, hired chambers, and at- inimical to his pursuit, he candidly extended the courts of law. But he soon pressed his opinion that this was not relinquished this pursuit, and content- the Temple of Jupiter ; and penetraing himself with the moderate fortune ting, amid considerable dangers, three left by bis father, indulged in that spirit days farther into the Desert, vainly of adventure which seems to have been searching, for that object, he returned implanted in bis nature. Previous to in April to Alexandria. He next vis1791 be devoted bimself priocipally to ited Rosetta, Damietta, and Cairo, in the cultivation of general literature, which city he resided at different perimodern languages, and something of ods eleven months, diligently studying the fine arts, together with botany, the Arabic language, and making himchemistry, and mineralogy; but enter- self intimately acquainted with oriental ing with great enthusiasm into the rev customs and mannere. On the 10th of olutionary Mania which then sprung up September he left Cairo, and sailed up jo France, be wasted much of his time the Nile as far as Thebes. and vigour upon politics, and republish- ployed some days in surveying these ed several tracts enforcing his views of venerable ruins, probably the most anthe subject at bis own expence, for the cient in the world, which extend for advancement of his favourite schemes. three leagues on each side of the river, Fortunately the desire to travel super- and shew the circumference of the city seded this passion ; aod stimulated by to have been about 27 miles. Higher the perusai of Bruce's Abyssinia, he up the river, he examined Assuan resolved to lose no further time in care (Syene) the ancient boundary of the rying bis exploratory plans into effect. Roman Empire, and visited the cele

He em

brated cataracts, or rather rapids, of the tigue of his late journey, and the effects Nile. The Mamlak war prevented his of the raioy season, (so formidable to penetrating into Nubia, and he again European constitutions, produced, turned towards Cairo, but was diverted very speedily, a dangerous and almost at Genne, on his way, into a journey fatal illness, from which be recovered thence towards the Red Sea and Cos- very slowly, and with great difficulty. sir, to see the immense stone quarries * His first object, after the partial described by Bruce. To avoid the restoration of his healtb, was to obtain perils of this road, be assumed the ori- permission to quit the country; for ental dress and character; and bis en- which purpose he attempted a negociaterprize was amply rewarded. He tion with a principal minister of the passed through immense excavations, sultan, which was wholly without elappearing to have been formed in the fect. After this failure, and after har. earliest ages; from which many of the ing been plundered in various ways of great Egyptian monuments were ob- the greater part of bis effects, be retained, and wbich furnished statues, signed bimself to his fate; and estabcolumns, and obelisks, without num- lishing his residence in a clay-built ber, to the Roman Empire, at its ut- house or hovel at Cobbé, the capital most elevation of luxury and power. town of Dar-Für, he cultivated an acHe viewed with astonishinent those ex- quaintance with the principal inhabibaustless quarries of granite, of por- tants, and acquired such a knowledge phyry, and of verd antique, (now of the Arabic dialect used in that abandoned, and become the abode of country as to enable him to partake of banditti and wandering tribes) which their society and conversation." supplied the most costly materials of Nearly three years elapsed, bowerer, ancient art, and to which modern before the caprice of this African tyrant Rome owes some of her principal ex- suffered him to depart; and it was not isting decorations. In the Spring, Mr. till the Spring of 1796, that he revisitB. traversed the rest of Egypt; and in ed the banks of the Nile, spent with May (1793,) set out with the Great suffering, and not having tasted animal Soudan caravan with the purpose of food for four months. One of his penetrating into Africa by Dar-Fôr, on amusements while in Dar-Fûr deserves the west of Abyssinia, and so on to be mentioned. through the latter country to the source “He purchased two lions, whom he of the grand western branch of the tamed and rendered familiar. One of Nile, the Bahr-el-ahiad, or White rive them, being bought at four months er. During this journey, the thermom. old, acquired most of the habits of a eter was occasionally at 116° in the dog. He took great pleasure in feeding shade ; but nevertheless, after incredi- them, and observing their actions and ble hard.sbips, our persevering country- manners. Many moments of languor man reached Dar-Fûr about the end of were soothed by the company of these July

animals.” " It appeared, immediately on Mr. In 1797, he travelled in Syria and Browne's arrival, that he had been en- Palestine, and visited Acre, Tripoli, tirely misinformed as to the character Damascus, the ruins of Balbec, Alepof the government, which he had un- po, and, journeying thence through derstood to be mild and tolerant. From Asia Minor, Constaotinople. On the his first entrance into the country, ow 16 of September, 1798, he arrived in ing in part to the treachery and in- London after an absence of searly 7 trignes of the servant he had brought years, which it may be seen from our from Cairo, but principally to the nat- rapid sketch, were passed in an extraorural bigotry and violence of the reign- dinary manner, whether we consider ing sovereign, he was treated with the the countries visited, or the hardships utmost barshness and severity ; and endured by the traveller. this circumstance, together with the fac Unfortunately for the public curio

ty, Mr. Browne had lost some of his permission to travel into Thibet. But most valuable journals; but still after due consideration of this and other enough remained to form that volume projects, he fixed at length upon the of Travels in Africa, Egypt, and Syria, Tartar city of Samarcand, and ihe cenwhich he published in 1800; which, tral region of Asia around it, as the ob potwithstanding its novelty, and geo- jects towards which bis attention should graphical value, bas (owing to its ab- now be directed. supt and artificial style and other more “ Having made the necessary arserious objections) never become pop- rangements in this country, for a long ular.

absence, be took his departure from No sooner was his publication com- England in the summer of 1812, and pleted, thau the author resumed his proceeded, in the first place, to Constanrambling life. In the summer of 1800 tinople; from whence, at the suggeshe quitted England, and taking Berlin tion of Mr. Tenant, he made a diliand Vieona on his way, arrived at Tri- gent, but fruitless, search for the meteeste, where he remained some time. oric stone, which is mentioned by the Athens, Smyrna, and again Constan- Parian Chronicle and the Natural Histinople, were the objects of his research; tory of Pliny to have fallea at Egosand a very interesting tour from the potamos in the ancient Thrace. From Turkish capital across Asia Minor to Constantinople he went, about the close Antioch followed. Subsequently, he of the year, to Smyrna ;" and thence, visited Cyprus, Egypt, Salanika, in the spring of 1813, proceeded in a Mount Athos, Albania, the Ionian north-easterly direction, through Asia Islaods, and Venice, where he rested Minor and Armenia, (the Persian some time, in 1802-3. From Venice, road) to Erzerům, and reached Tabriz, in the latter year, he went to Sicily, ex on the first of June. No traces of this plored the classical remains of that journey have been found among his island, and examined the volcanic

papers. Archipelago known by the name of the * Towards the end of the summer of Lipari. Returning reluctantly to Lon. 1813, having completed the preparadon, he made some arrangements for tions for his journey, he at length took publishing the fruits of these travels; his departure from Tabrîz, accompabut never carried the design into exe- nied by two servants, for Teherân, the cution. It is from the MSS. so pre- present capital of Persia ; intending to pared that our ensuing extracts are proceed from thence into Tartary. He made. In London, Mr. Browne lived passed on the second day through a retiredly, giving his time to study, and part of the Persian army which was en the society of a few select friends. His camped at the distance of 36 miles general demeanour was cold, unamia- from Tabrîz. What subsequently ble, and repulsive.

happened can only be known from the In 1805-6, though not much de- testimony of those who accompanied lighted with pative scenery, Mr.Browne him. After some days, both the sermade a tour of Ireland, and was much vants returned with an account that, gratified with his excursion.

after advancing to a place near the riv“ After several years had been thus er Kizil Ozan, about 120 miles from passed by Mr. Browne, bis ruliog pas- Tabriz, the party had been attacked by sion returned; his present course of banditti; and that Mr. Browne had life became ipsipid and irksome, and been dragged a short distance from the he began to meditate new expeditions. road, where he was plundered and His imagination naturally recurred to murdered, but that they were suffered some of those adventurous schemes to escape. They brought back with which he had formed in early life; and them a double barelled gun and a few he seems once to have had thoughts of other effects, known to have been in applying, at this period, to the Direc- Mr. Browne's possession. At the intors of the East India Company, for stance of Sir Gore Qoseley, soldiers

« VorigeDoorgaan »