prevented the malice of his countrymen from ever being dangerous. Had this suicidal onslaught come from an Hibernian instead of an English pen, we might very justly have said with the poet, that

"In his heart though venom lies, It doth but touch his Irish pen-and dies."

It was a great mistake to assail this work on the score of accuracy. Its author was the last man likely to be caught tripping on that head. But with all the praise, and not exaggerated praise, we have bestowed on it, there are faults which an ill-natured critic might enlarge on, and a friendly one point out. And with a word or two on these we shall conclude.

not tempered and chastised in our author by a logical head, an accurate memory, and an instinctive love for fair play. His talent for description sometimes gets the better of him; and although he neither invents nor imagines incidents, it now and then happens that he loads a fact with more inferences and accessories than it can easily sustain. We have alluded to this before; and though we do not think that the ultimate impression conveyed can in any instance be justly said to be exaggerated, he at times colors his picture more from his inward reflection than the outward fact. His chapter on the customs and society of England in the seventeenth century may afford an example of what we mean-where he has dashed off a picturesque conclusion, which, we are not satisfied, was always in nature quite so striking in all its features. This, perhaps, arises in some respects from the materials with which he was there obliged to work; his description being the concentrated reflection of rays borrowed from satirists, and caricaturists, and writers of fiction, with whom truth is always subservient to point and vivacity of effect. It is right, however, to say, that the defect we refer to occurs much more rarely in his narrative, and never when the occasion is important; and the discussion on the manners and habits of the time, though a graceful and almost necessary accompaniment to the narrative, may be supposed to admit of bolder speculation than the more austere parts of the volume. It is ne

The first lies on the surface; and is one of style. With great familiarity of expression on some few occasions, the author, nevertheless, is too constantly on his high-stepping steed, and trots over the common pathway with too uniform an air of grandeur. However brilliant the composition-and however much the interest excited may conceal the blemish, it is one which calls for correction; because, in the more humble though necessary parts of the narrative, it throws an air of constraint over them. In his great efforts Mr. Macaulay never fails; and he makes great occasions out of materials which would be but ordinary to ordinary men. The defect which is most apparent—and, indeed, almost the only one in manner-is his difficulty in say-cessary, too, to bear in mind, in criticisms of ing a simple thing simply.

We do not stop to quote examples. The reader, we admit, never wearies for an instant; and the imposing glow and richness of the context prevents their jarring on the ear or offending the judgment. Still it would be well to have the preludes and accompaniments of so striking a piece in strict harmony and accordance with their immediate theme. It is not so great an art to say a common thing in common words, as to say a brilliant thing in splendid words: but it is also an art in its way.

Descriptas servare vices, operumque colores,"

this nature, that unless allowance is made for our different points of view and for our different estimates of the relative importance of different particulars, nobody would be safe in describing an event or drawing a character.

In his general view of the history of these times, we have nothing to condemn or to suggest. It seems to us, from first to last, fresh, coherent, and true. Perhaps a Northern Whig might think that he has too little favor for the Puritans, and passes too lightly over the Scottish persecutions of Charles and James the Second. But even in this case we do not say that he has not exercised a wholesome moderation.

We now take our leave of Mr. Macaulay, is advice as old as Horace; and Mr. Macau- not without good hope of a speedy and haplay would lose nothing in impressiveness, and py meeting again. We trust that this noble would gain in taste and accuracy, by redu-foundation may be crowned with a structure cing the more level parts of the narrative to a more purely historical standard.

As to the substance of the work, there is but one fault which strikes us as important —and that would be a serious one, were it

still more magnificent; and that he may live to complete the great monument which he purposes to rear to the constitution of his country. But should his fame as an historian rest solely on the volumes before us, we ac

knowledge them as a noble offering on the al- | otism-in training up for future years good tar of our liberties; and, we doubt not, their citizens of that country, the intense and arauthor will be venerated in after times as hav- | dent love of which glows in every page, and ing been foremost in that first duty of patri- gives life to the fervid eloquence of his pen.

NIGHT.

FROM THE GERMAN OF GUSTAV. SOLLING.

GOLDEN troops of glittering stars
Up to heaven's blue arch ascend;
And their beams reflected play

Where the tranquil waves extend.

Through her opening veil of clouds,
Luna darts a tearful gleam;

The dewy hillocks of the dead

Return her faint and feeble beam.

Foam-becrested, silvery waves,
Sighing, break upon the strand,
And whisper, in their spirit-tones,
Greetings from my native land.

Plaintive strains of music sweet,
Through the shadowy grove do ring;
"Tis Philomel that charms the ear
With her song of love and spring.

Charged with sweets, the evening air
Sports amid the leafy trees;

And the shining beetle hums

His low song to the evening breeze.

Sweet to me, thou welcome Night,
Sweet thy calm to soul forlorn;
At thy approach my heart is soothed,
Though I hail it but to mourn.

ETA.

ok sontains a good deal that is From these sources he has revived some old the public. It corrects some mis recollections of Stella, and others connected Swift; it adds something to our with Swift, and has been fortunate enough Judging of him, and is, on the to recover what we are inclined to think a ditable to the diligence and the in genuine portrait of that lady, which is en Its distinguished author. Mr.graved for his volume. He has been also the editor of the Dublin Medical fortunate enough to find an old almanack this volume is an enlargement with verses in Swift's hand-writing bound up essay, published in that within the same cover, and has, in this way, al, in reply to some inquiries added a few poems of no great merit, and of m by Dr M'Kenzie of Glas- doubtful authenticity, to the mass of Swift's the character of the disease which works, already too large for each stressges of Thean Swift's life, or has 12.