Roman festivals, such as the Ludi Mega- plicity of former times corrupted, the golenses, & During these eight days, vernment thought it advisable to substitute twelve young girls were conducted in pro- wooden effigies, representing the brides, cession through the city. They were se- for the young women who accompanied lected in the following manner : The re- the procession. So extraordinary a change spective inhabitants of the six divisions of naturally displeased the multitude, who Venice met in each of the six principal gave themselves up to every kind of excess, parishes, and chose, by vote, the two young to testify their contempt for these automawomen of their division, most distinguish- tons. They followed them, hissing, and ed for their modesty and beauty. The hooting, with loud cries, which interrupted chuice was to be sanctioned by the Doge, the ceremony, and they ended by throwing and the parishes were to furnish all the showers of turnips at them, in consequence ornaments necessary for the dress of of which, a decree of the grand council, the Marias. The nation paid the sums wbich gives us a very distinct idea of the appropriate to the expence of the fetes, character and manners of the times, was and each day presented a new specta- issued in 1344, in favour of the unfortu. cle. On the first, the Marias, in their nate puppets. This decree forbids the gala robes, and accompanied by a numer: people to throw turnips, radishes, or any ous suite, were conducted in open and thing of the kind, during the fete of the richly decorated barges to the Doge, who Marias, on pain of being find a hundred received them in state conformable to pence, which was then a very large sum. his high dignity. They then all went to This law put an end to similar outrages, the patriarchal church, to return thanks to but could not do away the contempt of the the Most High, for the victory gained over people for these effigies, and they revenged the pirates, and the recovery of the brides. themselves for the restraint imposed upon The Marias followed in the splendid train them, by substituting for the turnips a of the Prince, and returned with him to proverb, which is still in existence, and St Mark's, when he graciously took leave which gives the name of Maria di legno, a of them, and then turning towards the wooden Maria, to every pale, meagre, and multitude, gave them his benediction, which insipid woman. The disastrous events of was received by the Venetians, not as ti- the war of Chioggia, in 1379, suspended mid subjects, but as children, brothers, the Ludi Mariani, and they never revived and friends

again, either because the immense sums The Marias then re-embarked, and tra- they cost were required by the State versed the grand canal. Wherever they for more important purposes, or because passed, the richest tapestries were hung the corruption of the national manners out, and the air resounded with the con- continued to increase. Of all the ceremocerts of musicians assembled 'to welcome nies instituted for the solemnization of this them. They and their suite were received festival, none were retained in the decline into the houses of some of the most weals of the republic, except the Doge's annual thy and illustrious families, and this recep. visit to St Maria Formosa.” tion was attended with so much magnifi. cence, and such a profusion of costly presents, that the expence was sometimes pro

REMARKS ON KEATS'S POEMS. ductive of serious embarrassment to their hosts. In consequence of this, it became Mr Keats is a poet of high and necessary to establish laws for the regulaundoubted powers. He has evident tion of these expences, and for the same peculiarities, which some of the Lonreason, the number of the Marias was re. duced, by a decree of government in the have seized upon and produced as fair

don critics, who are averse to his style, year 1272, to four, and afterwards to three only. During the other seven days, all specimens of his writings; and this was mirth and triumph ; banquets, public has operated, of course, to his disada dances, masquerades, plays, regattas, suc- vantage with the public, who have ceeded each other without an hoạr's inter- scarcely had an opportunity of judging mission. The women took this opportu- what his powers really are. Some of nity of indemnifying themselves for the re- his friends, indeed, have put in a straint generally imposed upon them by word or two of praise, but it has been the austere manners of the times. Even nearly unqualified; and this, when the Marias themselves could not dissemble yiewed at the same time with the critheir pride and delight, when they had succeeded in drawing to themselves the attention of men from the holy relics, which “ Endymion, a Poetic Romance." were carried in procession on the last day By John Keats. 8vo. pp. 207. of the festival to St Maria Formosa. At Isabella, The Eve of St Agnes, and other last, the original intention of the fete hav. Poems,” foolscap 8vo. pp. 199. Taylor ing been perverted, and the beautiful sim, and Hessey.

“ Lamia, p. 10.

ticism produced in an opposite spirit, * * The first book opens with a proceshas tended very much to confirm the sion in honour of Pan, in which the objections made to his poetry, Latmian Prince Endymion appears.

Mr Keats has produced three vo fart of this, and the hymn subsequent lumes of verse: the first is very in to it, are told in words that would ferior in power to the two others, but shed lustre upon any age of poetry. containing very delightful passages, After damsels, who carry baskets of and some sonnets of great beauty, April flowers, come on The second volume consists of the old mythological story of Endymion, and A crowd of shepherds, with as "sunburnt over which is scattered a multitude of As may be read of in Arcadian books, thoughts and images, conceived and Such as sate listening round A pollo's pipe, produced in the highest spirit of poe. When the great deity, for earth too ripe, try. Perhaps the “ Endymion,

“ Endymion,” Lct his divinity, o'er flowing, die though it contains more positive faults In music thro' the vales of Thessaly. than the last book, (“Lamia,") is more completely in Mr Keats's own style; and we think that it contains, at least,

Of Endymion it is said, as many beauties. It is more careless, A smile was on his countenance ; he seemed, perhaps, but there is a greater fresh. To common loukers on, like one who dreamed ness about it than about the last book, Of idleness, in groves Elysian ; p. 11. which (in Hyperion” at least) re

and yet he had a “ lurking trouble” minds us occasionally of other writers, in his nether lip, which, to a keener but which we must not be understood observer, would have betrayed his into speak of otherwise than in terms of cipient passion. The procession stops the sincerest admiration.

at last, and ranges itself in a circle, The poem of Endymion contains in the midst of which a venerable about 4000 lines, and the story of the priest rises, and invites the " Men of hero is not, perhaps, very interesting Latmos” to address their vows to the in itself; indeed, it is scarcely possi- great god Pan. They obey; and the ble to endure, with a lively interest, a following hymn is sung. It is worthy tale so slight and shadowy as that of of any of the gods.

ๆns the Loves of Diana and the Shepherd of Latmos. While this is stated, however, great praise must be ceded 0 Thou whose mighty palace. roof doth to the author, who, by force of poetry hang alone, can claim and compel the atá From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth) tention of the reader, for any length Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life,

1.9d A of time, to so bare (although graceful) of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness, a subject. Mr Keats commences his poem with Their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels

Who lov'st to see the Hamadryads dress: A an evident delight. Shapes and stories

darken, of beauty, he tells us, are joys for And through whole solemn hours dost sit ever. They

und hearken

The dreary melody of bedded reeds Haunt uş till they þecome a cheering light in desolate places, where dank moisture Unto our souls.

breeds Therefore, he says, and how beautiful. The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth; ly does he say it

Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth

Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx-do thou Therefore, ?tis with full happiness that I Will trace the story of Endymion,

By thy love's milky brow! The very music of whose name has gone

By all the trembling mazes that she ran, Into my being. p. 5.

Hear us, great Pan! We do not profess to give a 'summary of the contents of this volume. For willing service; whether to surprise

Thou to whom every fawn and satyr flies). Our intention is merely to give a few The squatted hare while in half sleeping extracts, and to let our readers judge

fit; for themselves. It will save a won

Or upward rugged precipices flit, derful deal of insisting on our parts; To save poor lambkins from the eagle's and after all, poetry is a matter of feeling rather than of argument. Or by mysterious enticement draw




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Bewildered shepherds to their path again ; We hope that our readers

Ot to tread breathless round the frothy feel that there are some (not ordinary) 545 » main,

beauties in the volumes of Mr Keats. And gather up all fancifullest shells

He is, perhaps, the poet, above all For thee to tumble into Naiad's cells, And, being hidden, laugh at their outpeep. case we were challenged to produce

others, that we should refer to, in ing; or to delight thee with fantastic leaping,

single lines of extraordinary merit. The while they pelt each other on the He is very unequal in his earlier von

lumes certainly, (and what poet is With silvery oak apples, and fir cones not?) but there are beauties which brown

might redeem ten times the amount By all the echoes that about thee ring, of any defects that they may contain: Hear us, O Satyr king!

Speaking of Zephyr, before sunO hearkener to the loud clapping shears, rise, he says, he While ever and anon to his shorn peers A-ram goes bleating : Winder of the horn. Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain..? When shouted wild boars routing tender This seems to us very charming, and

it is quite in the spirit of that mytho Anger our huntsman : Breather round our

logy which has invested the west wind farms To keep off mildews, and all weather- and the flowers with such delicate

personifications. Again, speaking of harms : Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,

Peona, the sister of Endymion, who That come a swooning over hollor grounds, sits by him while he sleeps, he says, And wither drearily on barren moors :

as a willow keepsja of Dread opener of the mysterious doors

A patient watch over the stream that creeps Leading to universal knowledge see

Windingly by it, so the quiet maids Great son of Dryope,

Held her in peace: so that a whispering: The many that are come to pay their vows

blado With leaves about their brows!

peli ona

Of grass, p. 24, Be still the unimaginable lodge For solitary thinkings; such as dodge or any other trivial thing, might be

heard. Conception to the very bourne of heaven, Then leave the naked train : be still the We have given the title of Mr leaven

Keats's second volume of poetry, and That spreading in this dull and clodded it was our intention to notice it, but earth,

this we find we must defer doing at Gives it a touch etherealma new birth : , .

present, and we have only space enough Be still a symbol of immensity ;

to give a few more single lines, or ideas A firmament reflected in a sea;

from Endymion, but these our read An element filling the space between ;

ers will, we doubt not, appreciate. Its An unknown-but no more: we humbly

is sufficient to say, that the flowers With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly which we select are by no means rare. bending,

Look at the effect of a single word, And giving out a shout most heaven rend.

Sometimes ing,

A scent of violets, and blossoming limes, Conjure thee to receive our humble Pæan

Loiter'd around us. p. 34. Upon thy Mount Lycean !

The following lines were quoted Even while they brought the burden to a against the author, in a London Rea close,

view. They are irregular, perhaps, A shout from the whole multitude arose,

but still very beautiful, we think. 10 That lingered in the air like dying rolls Of abrupt thunder, when Ionian shoals

Endymion ! the cave is secreter Of dolphins bob their noses thro' the brine. Than the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall Meantime, on shady levels, mossy fine,

stir Young companies nimbly began dancing No sighs, but sigh warm kisses, or light To the swift treble pipe and humming noise string

Of thy combing hand, the while it travelling Aye those fair living forms swam heavenly cloys To tunes forgotten-out of memory: And trembles thro' my labyrinthine hair. Fair creatures ! whose young children's

P; 48. children bred Thermopylæ its heroes--not yet dead,

Endymion wanders for many days But in old marbles ever beautiful Thro' wilderness and woods of mossed oaks,


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Counting his woe- worn minutes, by the view of the coast, will appear in the strokes

ensuing number of the Edinburgh Of the lone wood-cutter. p. 55.

Philosophical Journal, and we must A butterfly is sent to guide him: refer such of our readers as desire furhe follows it

ther information to that publication.

Mr William Smith, master of the Thro' the green evening quiet in the sun, brig Williams of Blythe, in a voyage O'er many a heath, and many a woodland from Buenos Ayres to Valparaiso, fan

dun, Thro' buried paths, where sleepy twilight cying that Cape Horn might be wea

thered better by preserving a more dreams

than usual southerly course, being on The summer time away. p. 56, 57.

the 19th of February 1819 in lat. 62° If this be not poetry, we do not 40' south, and long. 62° W. imagined know what is; but we must, per he saw land, amidst fields of floatforce, leave Endymion, begging our ing ice, at the distance of two readers to refer to it without more leagues. At this time, encounado, both for their sakes and our own. tering hard gales of wind, accompa(To be continued.)

nied by flying showers of snow, he
thought it prudent to haul off to the

northward during the night. Next

OF day, (February 20,) he again stood in NEW SOUTH SHETLAND ; WITH OB- for his supposed land. At noon his laSERVATIONS ON ITS IMPORTANCE. titude by observation was 62° 17' S.,

long. 60° 12' W. by an excellent We have often of late regretted chronometer. The weather was mothat we live in an age when no ex- derate, and the atmosphere clear, pected discoveries of strange lands when he again made the lund. He can stir up enterprise, and reward our was deterred from approaching neareternal desire for something new. er, by fearing blowing weather. He When our minds have not been filled observed, however, to the westward with the terror of revolutions, the more land, which he approached to dread of subjugation-or the joy of the distance of ten niiles. Both apvictory, (which have pretty well oc- peared to be islands, and bare, barren, cupied us these last thirty years,) we and rocky. Feeling himself in a rehave longed for the return of those sponsible situation with regard to his days of ignorance, every one of which ship and cargo, he contented himself brought to the ravished ears of our an- with this distant survey, and on his cestors some golden tale of new worlds, arrival at Valparaiso, related to the more sweet than all the fables of the English there every thing he had seen, east. As we surveyed our Atlas, who all ridiculed him for his credulity. however, we were quite in despair, He was not, however, to be thus easily and concluded, that, except the inte laughed out of his own observation; rior of Africa, no part of the world, and, on his return to the River Plate capable of bearing the foot of the in June following, was determined, if wanderer or the keel of a ship, was so possible, to verify what he had seen, unexplored, that we could ever hope He steered in the latitude of 620 12 to hear of any new contineuts, or any S., but when he reached the longitude more varieties of the human race. of 67° W. he became so beset with To our surprise reports have recently loose pack ice, that he was alarmed been circulated, that a Terra Australa- for the safety of his ship and cargo, sia has actually been seen by a British and obliged to give up the attempt. merchant ship. At first we treated On his arrival at Monte Video, be this as an Irish or American report, was again ridiculed for his credulity, both of which are generally famous and almost led to renounce his former for not being true; but our credulity conclusions. His account reached the has been conquered by the kindness ears of some American merchants, of a friend, and the certainty of the who endeavoured to obtain from him discovery put beyond question. We the true situation of the land, and of hasten to lay before our readers an fered to charter his ship on a voyage extract from the information which he of discovery. He, however, to his

cre has transmitted from Valparaiso. The dit, refused to disclose the longitude whole, accompanied by a chart and and latitude to any but a British-born

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subject: though he honourably offered drawing to a close, the boat pushed to conduct the vessel himself, and, if off, the master, with the most prune land existed, to receive no freight; dent views, hauling off the shore but that was not the object of the other with his ship. The harbour appear. party, and Jonathan withdrew his ed to abound with the real sperma, contract. The honest Englishman, at ceti whale. Seals and sea-otters as length having obtained freight a se- bounded, as also an animal differing cond time to Chili, set off on his voys from the sea-otter. Next morning at age, and, on the 15th of October last, day-break, he could perceive the land at 6 P. M., being then about the same tend in a S. E. direction. Keeping his latitude and longitude as before, he course to southward and westward, discovered the same land, bearing he saw several other islands, all about S. E. by E. three leagues, the weather three leagues from the main-land, and being hazy. He bore up for it, ap- all alike barren and rocky. He afterá proached within four miles, and prov- wards made a point of land whichi ed it to be a large barren rock, inha- he called Cape William, and could bited only by innumerable penguins: distinctly perceive, with a telescope, he sounded in 40 and 60 fathoms, pro- trees which bore a resemblance to Norcuring a bottom of black sand. At way pines : Indeed, he describes the day-light next morning he again whole appearance of the land, as stood in for the island ; and at & A. being more like the Norwegian coast M. the weather being very clear, than any he ever saw. he could plainly distinguish the main The weather at daybreak next day land, bearing S. S. E., the island being becoming more settled, he descried distant from it about three leagues. another headland, which he named The main-land presented itself as a Smith's Cape : The weather being cape, to which the coast tended in a remarkably clear and fine, he prov N. E. direction, baving peculiar marks, ed it to lie in latitude 62° 53' S.; of which he took rough sketches: he longitude 63° 40' W. From Smith's stood in, and ran along the land as Cape, the land appeared to extend far as the point, to which he gave in a south-westerly direction ; but the name of North Foreland, obtain- however eager his desire to extend ing all the way regular sounding of his search, he concluded that he had sand and gravel, lessening gradually fully attained his object, having provfrom 35 to 20 fathoms; the bottom ed the existence of the coast for the was good and regular. The island distance of 250 miles. He therefore bearing N. W., distance seven leagues, shaped his course to the northward ; he observed the appearance of a good and in the month of November harbour, and sent a boat's crew and his reached the Port of Valparaiso. One first mate on shore, where they plant- may judge of the sensation produced ed a board with the Union-jack, and in the breast of an Englishman on an appropriate inscription, with three hearing the relation of Mr Smith ; cheers, taking possession in the name every one became struck with the adof the King of Great Britain. To the vantages which a British settlement main-land was given the name of New would offer, not only to our whale South Shetland, on account of its ly- fisheries, but to our commercial inte. ing in about the same latitude as the rests in that quarter of the globe. UnShetland Islands. It was barren and til the political arrangements of these rocky, the highest points being covered countries (Spanish colonies) become with snow. At the place of landing the in some degree settled, the consespot was barren, being stony, not of quenees resulting from the animosirounded pebbles, but of bluish-grey ties that may possibly arise between słaty pieces, varying in size from very the many contending

parties must nee large to very small. The harbour ap- cessarily be feared. Those who were peared to proceed inland as far as the here during the affair at Cancharayada, eye could reach, and to afford a good well know the value of any thing like anchorage. This place was called a British settlement, however miseraShireff's Cove, in honour of the Com- ble, to retire to. On the arrival of the manding Naval Officer in the Pacific. Williams in November last, there was An abundance of birds were seeni so a general and simultaneous feeling atame, that they could be approached mong the English merchants, who inwithout disturbing them. The day -stantly set about taking up a vessel,

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