spoke good Spanish, I asked where tack Alviano the celebrated Venewas the master ?' The girl on this tian. Pescara dismounted, and adcalled out, · Here is a Spaniard who vancing to the front with his pike in wants you. He came, and perceive his hand, turned to his troops with ing that I was French, turned his these words: Gentlemen, if it is rhetoric upon the girl. • Ignorant my chance to fall in this battle, let fool, are you not ashamed to call a me not be trampled on by any feet gentleman like this a Spaniard ? but your own. The soldiers on this

“ But the Spanish boasting was gave a general shout, charged, and sometimes elegant and satirical. won the field.” When the French lost Naples, and The last anecdote I shall give is D'Aubigny their general was taken one interesting to our English pride. prisoner, the Frenchman, to show “ When Philip II. equipped his Chat he did not feel his defeat, ap- grand fleet against England, I freplied to the Spanish general for a set quently met Spanish soldiers and of stout and good horses, that he officers, who, after their shipwreck, might return. The equivocal phrase were making their way homewards. struck the Spaniard, who replied, They were full of lofty stories. • That he might return as soon as Among the rest they told me that he pleased, and that he should be there were in the fleet 120 ships, the always treated with the same libe- least of 300 tons. That they had rality.'"

forty or fifty of 7 or 800 tons, and Some of these rodomontades are twenty of from 1000 to 1200, and of pleasant from their boundless extra- those four or five of the most incomvagance. They are chefs d'æuvre of parable kind. Then came on the boasting, fine displays of the genius rodomontade. "The king bad orof bombast.

dered the ocean to be ready to re“I was,” said a Spanish captain, ceive throughout his realm, his ships, “ in the battle of Lepanto, in Don or rather not ships, but mountains of John's galley.

We attacked the timber. He had, in the same way, Turkish admiral's galley. I gave a ordered the winds to be quiet, or to thrust with my sword, it went into blow fair, without any storms, for the water. I did not give it with his fleet; whose shade, he declared, my whole force, but down it went, would darken and overtop, not meredeep as hell, and split Pluto's nos- ly the trees and masts, but the weatrils."

ther-cocks on the steeples in Eng, Go," said a soldier, “ if you land. This was certainly a grand know that fellow just past, or if rodomontade. But the Armada came you have any regard for him, say to nothing at all; partly by the viprayers for his life.

He has dis- gilance and courage of that famous pleased me.”

commander Drap, (for thus the “ D’Estrosse and I once asked a Frenchman mutilates Drake) one of Spanish soldier in Italy, whose name the greatest officers that ever fought was Don Diego Leonis, what was on the seas, or, perhaps, ever will ; the reason of this grand appellation. and partly by the storms and waves, • It was given,' said he, because I probably too much offended by all killed three lions in Barbary.'" this threatening, as, we well know,

A young Spanish soldier was they are extremely proud, and by no asked, how he had contrived to have means pleased at being insulted in his moustaches so large.

These any way.” moustaches,' said he, 'were made of Thus simply and plainly does the cannon smoke, and it is that which old Cavalier give the recollections of has fed and cherished them so fast his brilliant period, with the vivacity and so long.."

of a Frenchman, the poignancy of a That brief and famous speech of court wit, and that mixture of pleaPescara, the favourite officer of the sant garrulity and diligent minuteSpanish companies, is more than a ness, that makes the chronicles of boast, it was the noble speech of a his age the most delightful of all gallant warrior.

reading for the idle of the earth. “ The army was drawn up to at

THOUGHTS AND IMAGES. « Come like shadows, so depart.” — Macbeth. The Diamond, in its native bed,

Hid like a buried star may lie
Where foot of man must never tread,

Seen only by its Maker's eye;
And though imbued with beams to grace
His fairest work in woman's face,

Darkling, its fire may fill the void,
Where fix'd at first in solid night,-

Nor, till the world shall be destroy’d,
Sparkle one moment into light.
The Plant, up springing from the seed,

Expands into a perfect flower;
The virgin-daughter of the mead,

Woo'd by the sun, the wind, the shower; In loveliness beyond compare, It toils not, spins not, knows no care;

Train’d by the secret hand that brings
All beauty out of waste and rude,

It blooms a season,--dies,—and flings
Its germs abroad in solitude.
Almighty skill, in ocean's caves,

Lends the light Nautilus a form
To tilt along the Atlantic waves,

Careless and fearless of the storm ;
But should a breath of danger sound,
With sails quick-furl'd it dives profound,

And far beneath the tempest's path,
In coral grots, defies the foe,

That never brake, in all his wrath,
The sabbath of the deep below.
Up from his dream, on twinkling wings,

The Sky-lark soats amid the dawn,
Yet, while in Paradise he sings,

Looks down upon the quiet lawn,
Where flutters in his little nest
More love than music e’er express'd :

Then, though the nightingale may thrill
The soul with keener ecstasy,

The merry bird of morn can fill All Nature's bosom with his glee. The Elephant, embower'd in woods,

Coeval with their trees might seem, As if he drank, from Indian floods,

Life in a renovating stream; Ages o'er him have come and fled, Midst generations born and dead,

His bulk survives,—to feed and range, Where ranged and fed of old his sires,

Nor knows advancement, lapse, or change, Beyond their walks, till he expires. Gem, flower, and fish, the bird, the brute,

Of every kind, occult or known, (Each exquisitely formn’d to suit Its humble lot, and that alone,)

E 2

Through ocean, earth, and air, fulfil,
Unconsciously, their Author's will,

Who gave, without their toil or thought,
Strength, beauty, instinct, courage, speed;

While through the whole his pleasure wrought
Whate'er his wisdom had decreed.
But Man, the master-piece of God,

Man in his Maker's image framed,-
Though kindred to the valley's clod,

Lord of this low creation named, -
In naked helplessness appears,
Child of a thousand griefs and fears:

To labour, pain, and trouble, bom,
Weapon, nor wing, nor sleight, hath he ;

Yet, like the sun, he brings his morn,
And is a king from infancy.
For-him no destiny hath bound

To do what others did before,
Pace the same dull perennial round,

And be a man, and be no more!
A man ?-a self-will’d piece of earth,
Just as the lion is, by birth;

To hunt his prey, to wake, to sleep,
His father's joys and sorrows share,

His niche in nature's temple keep,
And leave his likeness in his heir.
No,-infinite the shades between

The motley millions of our race;
No two the changing moon hath seen

Alike in purpose, or in face;
Yet all aspire beyond their fate;
The least, the meanest would be great ;

The mighty future fills the mind,
That pants for more than earth can give;

Man, in this narrow sphere confin'd,
Dies when he but begins to live.
Oh! if there be no world on high

To yield his powers unfetter'd scope ;
If man be only born to die,

Whence this inheritance of hope ?
Wherefore to him alone were lent
Riches that never can be spent ?

Enough-not more-to all the rest,
For life and happiness, was given ;

To man, mysteriously unblest,
Too much for any state but Heaven.
It is not thus ;-it cannot be,

That one so gloriously endow'd
With views that reach eternity,

Should shine and vanish like a cloud:
Is there a God?--All nature shows
There is,-and yet no mortal knows :

The mind that could this truth conceive,
Which brute sensation never taught,

No longer to the dust would cleave,

But grow immortal at the thought. Sheffield, 1820.


she gave

In the former essay on this sub-My fondest brother, let the horses stop ject, * after some general observations Before this house, that I may to these oron the intimate relation which always

phans, subsists between the character of a

The children of my bosom, give some sign

Of love." The horses stopt before the people and their ballads and songs; and on the resemblance in character The mournful house of Asa, and alighting

house, of nations of the same race to each From off her horse, she presents gave unto other,-we

ve proceeded to illustrate The children of her bosom,– beautiful those observations, by an examina- Half boots, embroider'd round with gold, tion of the ballads and popular songs of the people of Gothic or Germanic To her two boys, and to her daughters dear origin. We briefly noticed the early Two dresses which from head to foot did ballads of this country, gave a few

clothe them; specimens from those of Germany, But to the suckling who still helpless lay and broke off, rather abruptly, in the Within the cradle, she sent a little coat. account, on which we had entered, of The father at a distance seeing this, the ballads of Denmark.

Call'd to his children : “ Turn, dear little Writers of considerable acuteness

ones, in other respects, conceiving that in Turn back again to me; your mother's poetry the effect produced should breast correspond with the degree of effort is hard as iron, and she knoweth not displayed, have often been at a loss What pity is.” The sorrow-stricken wife to account for the powerful manner

Hears Asa's words, and falls with pallid

face in which men are generally affected Convulsive on the earth, and her afflicted by the rude and artless strains of Soul from her distressed bosom flew, ancient ballads. Thus the Abbé Seeing her children turn and flee from her. Forti, an intelligent mineralogical traveller, who, among other speci- he knew less of shells and rocks than

Shakspeare, however, who, though mens of Morlackian poetry, communicated the affecting ditty of “ Asan the Abbé, knew more of the secrets Aga's Bride,” the subject of which of the human heart, would have ac

o old and plain is the divorce of an affectionate wife, counted to him why from some imaginary neglect ; her songs,” which marriage to a second husband; and The spinners and the knitters in the sun, journey past the house of the first hus- And the free maids that weave their thread

with bones, band, on her way to that of the other,

Do use to chaunt, -wonders at the impression which it and similar ballads produced on the and which, hearers. “ I have often,” says the

dally with the innocence of love, Abbé, “ seen the hearers burst into Like the old age, tears at passages which produced not will always, so long as human nature the smallest effect on me.' It ends is human nature, continue to agitate with the following passage.

men more powerfully than more la

boured and ingenious compositions.-But when they near to Asan's dwelling Their effect depends on their very came,

artlessness, and the absence of every The tender daughters and the little boys Saw their fond mother from the battle thing like pretension; and one might ments,

as reasonably wonder why the innoAnd hurried down: “O dear, dear mo

cent smile of childhood gains more ther, come

on us than the studied airs of an old O come again to us, come to thy hall dandy, as wonder at this phenomenon. And eat with us thy evening meal!-0 We have already observed that come!"

the ballads of the Teutonic nations With sighs, the sorrowing spouse of Asan are like the people themselves, more Aga,

cordial and homely, than fervid, On hearing once again her children's voice, graceful, or animated. Turn'd to the first of the Suati : “ O my We have nothing which in wild


* London Magazine, February, 1821.

or the

sublimity will compare with the Cel- cluding the French, and other natic remains,-nothing which in insi- tions who were only conquered by nuating sweetness will compare with Germans) may be divided into two the

great classes, which though they Chi bussa alla mia porta ? chi bussa al mio both have many common points of porton,

resemblance, yet, from the earliest

times of which we have any record, C'erano tre zitelle, e tutte tre di amor

seem to have differed considerably

from each other in habits, customs, of the Italians.-Our ballads present and in dialect; namely, the upper, themselves under a less imposing and or inland Germans, and the mariless alluring aspect : but whatever time, or low Germans. The chief of their merit or demerit, they are our the former are the Swiss, Austrians, own; and as parents, however plain- Swabians, Bavarians, and Alsatilooking themselves, are always well ans; and of the latter, the Netherpleased to see their features reflected landers, Frisians, and lower Saxons, in those of their offspring; children the Danes, Swedes, and Norwegians, carrying with them such strong and the English and lowland Scots. proofs of their filiation as our old bal- It may be remarked, as a peculiarity lads possess, will never address them- of the latter, that they can all proselves in vain to us. Besides, inde- nounce the consonants b and d, which pendently of all considerations of mere the former uniformly pronounce p literary merit, the ballads of the Teu- and t. tonic nations, connected as they are If we did not, historically, know with the essential character of the that England was settled hy emigrapeople, have a separate claim on ge- tions from Holland, Frieseland, neral attention, derived from the im- Lower Saxony, and Denmark, the portance of these nations. The Teu- similarity of language, popular sutonic, Germanic, or Gothic nations, perstitions, manners, and customs, have long been the leading people of and other unequivocal tests, would the world. Distinguished above every place the matter beyond all doubt.other European race by their size and But in no circumstance is the relabodily strength, by their cool intrepi- tionship more strongly marked than dity, their steady perseverance, and the in the similarity of the old ballads phlegm and moderation of their cha- and old music of these countries. racter, they sueceeded in conquering We have already noticed the very and subjugating all their neighbours, great resemblance of the old Danish and they are now masters of the best to the old English ballads, not merepart of Europe and America, and of ly in tone and cast of sentiment, some of the finest regions of Asia.- but even in subject and mechanical Soon after their first appearance in structure. This great resemblance history, we find their arms spread is not confined to the Danish ballads, terror throughout the whole of the but extends to those of Sweden, west.-A Gothic empire formerly ex- Norway, and the Scandinavian tended from the Wolga to the Baltic. islands, for in all these countries the 'In Thrace, Mæsia, Pannonia, Italy, same ballads and songs are current Gaul, Spain, and even in Africa, va- among the people.- Nothing, indeed, rious Gothic, or Germanic tribes, at is more curious, than the wonderful different times, formed settlements coincidence between the Danish baland founded kingdoms.-It was they lads, published nearly two centuries who mastered the Romans, Saracens, and a half ago, and the ballads in a Gaels, Cimbri, Lapps, Finns, Estho- recent collection in three volumes, nians, Sclaves, Kures, and Prussians, derived, with few exceptions, from '-- who founded, and who continue to the recitations of the peasantry of rule in, all the existing kingdoms of the different provinces of Sweden. Europe, and who everywhere intro- This collection from tradition, exduced their government by estates, hibiting the variations of the differand their own laws.

ent provinces, with an accompany, The whole of the people in whom ing volume of tunes,* was finished Germanic blood preponderates (ex- in 1817, and forms a very valuable

* To be had of Bohte, York-street, Covent-Garden.

« ElőzőTovább »