sidered by the pashas as the lords of the land; and on | Spencer was not more fortunate; for, on the same page a stranger's arriving in a regency, whether he be a where occur the following lines

"Long time I've reigned o'er mice and rats;
For lawyers I've employed the cats,
Who never cease to snarl and bite
From night till morn, from morn till night.
One remedy alone I give,

Which, like all doctors draughts and pills,
Soon bid the small deer cease to live,
For poison quickly cures or kills."

prince or beggar, he is considered by the Turkish ruler as subject to him who has the flag of his country waving over his dwelling. It chanced that a consul gave a grand dinner to one of his friends, and the prince received an invitation to attend, which he accepted. After the party was assembled and dinner announced, the one for whom the entertainment was made was asked by the consul to hand his wife to dinner. This trifling circumstance so mortified his highness, that all the time he was at the table he spoke to no one, and answered the questions he was asked only in monosyllables: the author has written "a horrible translation." In the when the dinner was finished, he immediately retired. second chapter, the subject of which is a visit to the esThis slight, as he fancied it, the prince never forgave;tablishment of Hernhutters, and which commences with and on his leaving Tunis, he observed he could not call the following quotation of Pope, to take leave of one who had intentionally shown him such an indignity. Perhaps his highness, had he gone from this to Barbary, would not have been so scrupulous as to the attentions which he had required on his first visit should be paid to his rank.

On his leaving Malta, the prince was accompanied to the Marina by his secretary, the porters who carried his baggage, a crowd of beggars to whom he was accustomed to give alms, and a few police sergeants, who, knowing he was a "principe," followed more as a matter of curiosity than in observance of their duty. It unfortunately happened that one of the trunks containing his notes was dropped overboard, at the moment of his embarkation, and lost. The prince engaged his passage in one of his majesty's steamers for the Ionian islands, and on his hearing of the accident, remarked, that he had not known, in all his travels for the last five and twenty years, of a similar instance of inattention and inexcusable carelessness ;-turning to his secretary, he significantly observed, "though the originals are lost the duplicates are left."

"For modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right;"

the corrections are most numerous, and the interpola tions not at all unfrequent. In the narration of this visit, the author has made mention of his lady-love of England. Celebrated as the prince has long been for his amours, his description may afford some amusement; if for nothing else it will show his taste:

"Her person is pleasing, and she has entered into that peculiar age of conquest which commences there about the age of forty. We have been for many years the most attached friends; and she is, in my opinion, by her talented mind, and kind, benevolent disposition, independently of her external graces, superior to hundreds of her younger cotemporaries; but above all, she has always evinced towards me the most unchanging affection, which no wealth can purchase—in a word, it is my Julie. Notwithstanding her moral excellence, she has, fortunately for me, some amiable weaknesses, as nothing is more tiresome than perfection. There is, Before we close, we will briefly notice Puckler Mus- also, another being, besides myself, who possesses a kaw's "Tutti Frutti," a work which, on its first appear- large share of her affections—an enfante gáté, named ance in London, was much sought after, and rapidly Faney—a being as whimsical as he is graceful, and who passed through several editions. To translate a work is occasionally somewhat formidable; at least when he into one's own language correctly, will at all times be is visited by a fit of ill humor. This young English found no easy task-but for an Englishman to translate gentleman, or, more correctly speaking, nobleman, is a from the German, with its numerous idioms, and to ex-true sprig of the noble Marlborough race at Blenheim, press, in his native tongue, the many beauties which at the hall door of which palace I purchased him, as the may be conveyed in that language alone, is impossible. slave trade in spaniels was then permitted, though it is We will not condemn Mr. Spencer for his translation of impossible to say whether this will always be the case. the "Tutti Frutti," nor Mrs. Austin for her's, of "The I then little dreamed what a serpent I was nourishing Tour of a German Prince." The literary world is in- in my bosom with the tenderness of a nurse. I reared debted to them for their labors, and for the amusement the helpless baby to become, oh misery! in later days, which their works have afforded; yet the prince, who my successful rival in the good graces of the fair Julie. is certainly the best judge of his own writing, was any What ingratitude, after I had carefully transported him thing but satisfied with the manner in which the same over the broad seas, in a mixed society of Englishmen, were performed, and, at the close of both transla-apes, parrots and islanders, all of which I offered with tions, has written with his own handdeep reverence at the feet of the queen of my affections." "Select a tree-tear it out of its native soil-strip it It will not appear surprising, after the perusal of the of its leaves and blossoms, and then plant it again in a above extract, that the English should have felt themneighbor's garden: doing this you will have perform-selves insulted at the sarcastic language of the author; ed a translation quite similar to the one before you.

"The unfortunate author of the German Tutti Frutti,” But, to continue, the prince has written of the "Wanderer's Return," which occupies the first fifty pages of the first volume-"That it has become nonsense by wrong translation-as, unfortunately, a great part of the whole book." In poetry, also, it would appear, Mr.

possessing, as they do, no small share of self-esteem, they could not but doubly feel the sarcasms conveyed in the works of a foreign prince. "For him to have said that the gentlemen of England would retain a lost pocket-book, if they found the owner-to have him compare our nobility with spaniels-to nick-name his horses Englishmen, because they had short tails—to

class the travellers of our nation with apes and parrots, I not appropriate his wealth for the building of churches, and to speak of them as coming from the land of fogs- as they are, in his opinion, sufficiently numerous, and are sufficiently good reasons," in my opinion, observed the multiplication of them appeared to him about as captain D., "for the prince not only to be slighted, but useful to religion as the fourth gate built by the Schileven insulted by the high spirited Englishmen, in what- daers for the purpose of augmenting their customever country he may chance to find him." This officer house dues. He would not employ it in the conversion was not alone in his opinion, as I had an opportunity of of the heathen, as he considered it an useless underwitnessing some few evenings after, at the opera. One taking. The prince here has humorously given his of the few who paid Puckler Muskaw any atten- readers to understand in what manner he would have tion during his residence at Malta, was lady B*****, expended this property, had it been his good fortune whose daughter was engaged to the flag-captain of the to have possessed it. In his own words, he says,-the fleet. On the prince's entering the box, the captain | first would be that he would cause to be carved a statue would not recognise him, and remained seated for three quarters of an hour, until the act was finished, when he retired without a salutation, leaving his highness, who had been all the time standing with cap in hand, to take his empty seat. It was said that captain M***** was justified in his conduct by the manner in which his rela- | tives had been mentioned in the noble author's tour. Puckler Muskaw, it would appear, while at Valetta, had an aversion to the society around him when in it he felt uneasy; when by any chance he could avoid it, he would.

of Napoleon, out of one of the highest anguilles of Mont Blanc-an immortal monument to his gigantic mind. Further, he would despatch two expeditions, the first to Africa, to seek in every direction of the compass for the source of the Nile, and the gold mines in the mountains of the moon; to ascertain the existence of the fabulous unicorn, and also to procure for his aviary a specimen of the bird Roc. It is possible, he continues, that with this expedition he might send a company of missionaries, and a half a million of bibles; he would then make a conquest of Japan, if But, to continue our notice of the Tutti Frutti-the | it were only to evince his contempt for those tasteless next chapter which comes under our observation, is barbarians who will only permit the Dutch to visit pleasingly entitled "The Album of an Active Mind," well written, and containing many capital anecdotes. In this, as in others, the criticisms of the author, have been given with an unsparing hand; on every page will be found some such remark as the following: "A horrible translation;" ;" "this is rendered unintelligible by the ignorance of the translator;" "in this place many lines are wanting," &c. &c. It might, however, have been well for the prince, while criticising the work of Mr. Spencer, in such unmeasured terms, to have written his criticisms in his native language: the sentences which he has left on record are full of grammatical errors, and many of the words are so badly spelt, that the English reader will require no little study to decipher them, and be enabled to understand what ideas in writing the author would wish to convey. We take another extract, which is evidently intended as a hit against the English, and which these people might say was not inapplicable to their "transatlantic brethren." "During the time I was in England, I met with a little boy, the well known Thellusson, of whom I was informed, that he would one day be in the possession of from ten to twenty millions of pounds sterling. Happy mortal! what an enviable privilege to be the heir of such immense wealth. Nothing is more ludicrous or more evidences a contracted mind, than the exclamation I so frequently heard-how could I employ such an enormous fortune? Oh ye men of limited and confined intellect, if I had been destined by Heaven to be so highly favored, how quickly I should form and execute my plans for expending, aye, even the capital itself: it is only with such fortunes human nature can be benefitted."

The author here sarcastically observes, he would not squander it in luxury, for that is a common, an every. day practise. He would not expend it in the erection of schools, as he should leave them to the state;indulging in his tory creed, he continues, they are already too numerous, and those who go to them receive more nourishment than they can well digest. He would

them. The last few miserable millions, he would employ in digging a pit a mile deep, in the national sands of his country, and when the last dollar was expended, he would throw himself in-it would at least be so deep that the voice of the critic would be unheard.-In closing this notice of the "Trutti Frutti," which has extended to a much greater length than we had originally intended, we would only mention the articles entitled the "Congress at Aix la Chapelle," in which will be found a good description of Prince Metternich, the Talleyrand of Austria--and that of the "Bear Hunt;" at the close of which, the author has penned the following note: "The translation of this bear hunt is the only part of the book resembling the original; perhaps it is because it is the most insignificant." We regret that the prince should have been so much displeased with the manner in which the translator performed his task-but, as they are, we can safely recommend these volumes to the attention of every reader.

Malta, July 2d, 1838.

THE GRAVE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS.

The grave is deep and still,

And full of dread its strand;
It hides with veil of gloom,

An undiscovered land.

Songs of the nightingale

Ne'er in its bosom sound;
And friendship's roses fall
But on the grassy mound.
Forsaken brides in vain

With wringing hands contend,
And tears of orphans flow-
The earth they cannot rend.

A.

Yet rest for which we sigh
Dwells only in the tomb;
Through death's dark door alone
We reach our wished for home.

The sorrowing heart, below,

Of many a storm the seat; Alone true peace can know, When it hath ceased to beat.

VELASCO-A TRAGEDY:

J. L. M.

bation of the few whose taste can appreciate true dra. matic excellence. This has been the fault of Knowles: we must not, however, omit to render him praise for several admirable touches of character, like that of St. Pierre in the Wife, and, though more common-place, of Julia in the Hunchback. They display ability, which, had his aim been higher, might have elevated Sheridan Knowles to no mean rank among dramatic poets.

We can hardly expect, so long as our country is made Martin by law dependant upon Europe for its literature, that American authors will be prominent in the cultivation of a purer and more rational taste. But we hope the day is coming, when a free and fair field will be accorded to all; and then we do not despair of seeing a renovation in every department of poetry. The character of some of our recent dramatic productions justifies us in this expectation.

The author of "Velasco" has chosen an interesting period for his plot. We may remark, in passing, that the tragedy is dedicated to the distinguished southern senator, Mr. Preston. That gentleman, we doubt not, will reward this expression of high respect for his taste as well as his genius, by giving the support of his elo

umph for the good deed of a single poet, to purchase so much good for all of his craft.-To proceed:

"Velasco" is a story of Castilian pride and Castilian revenge. The outline of the tale is familiar to the readers of history; but the author deserves the credit of originality, for the manner in which he has filled it up; for the skilful development of the incidents, and for the poetical embellishment with which he has softened the stern and rugged features of the time. The story is this:-Velasco, a noble knight of Castile, who has been banished a year, for some offence against court etiquette, yet has served his king and country incognito, attends a banquet given by the king, and there discovers himself, in presence of the court and nobles. All are astonished to find their countryman in the unknown knight, who has filled Spain with his fame. The monarch, in grati tude for his services, bestows upon Velasco the hand of Donna Izidora, to whom he was attached before his exile. The maiden's happiness is complete; for she not only receives the man of her heart, but escapes from a union with her kinsman Hernando. The present, in her own language,

By Epes Sargent: New York; Harper & Brothers. The peculiarities that have distinguished the poetry of the present century, have been eminently discernable in the drama. The poetry that found such favor with the public, as to induce a neglect of the early masters, by appealing exclusively to the passions, or rather the excitabilities of men, produced, for a time, an unnatural excitement, like that of highly seasoned dainties in the absence of plainer and more wholesome aliment. The consequence in one case, as in the other, must be some-quence to the copy-right law :* it were a desirable trithing of a disgust at the luxuries so profusely served up, The decline of the popular taste for poetry in our day, sufficiently shows this effect. The drama exhibits the corruption more palpably; though, in fact, the English drama, since the days of Otway, can scarcely be said to have had any character-no writer having appeared, except Miss Baillie, with pretensions higher than those of a mere composer for the stage. The modern French school, which our writers have imitated, exhibits the features we have alluded to in their worst aspect. The vicious-we must call them vicious-productions of M. M. Victor Hugo, and A. Dumas, excite the imagination by extravagant and terrific incidents, and thereby attempt to soften the horror we should naturally feel at the moral atrocities they represent. They do not even paint deep passion; the distortion preserves no features of humanity. It belonged to the Germans, and to Schiller, whose name is in itself a host, to restore the drama to its legitimate and noble empire; to make it the interpreter of man to man. The development of character is aimed at in all his creations; the kingdom of thought was his own. It is true, that plays in which intellect is predominant, are less suited to the stage than the closet; for it belongs not to the actor's province to represent the phases of thought. But the passion, in depicting which his art lies, rude and palpable as it must be to be readily conveyed to the apprehen- But the sion of an audience, can never appeal to the heart-Hernando, the rejected lover, plans a terrible scheme of can never create deep and lasting emotion in the spectator, unless individual character is unfolded-unless the creation is made kin to us by the touch of nature. Our modern poets of the stage have erred in forming themselves after the French school instead of the German-the best German school we mean. Startling incident, and bursts of declamation, striking and effec-in a paroxysm of rage and shame, appeals to his son tive stage situations, and melo-dramatic scenes, have been liberally employed, to the total neglect of weigh tier matters, the revelation of human character, the nourishment of the understanding, the elevation of the heart. The great error is that they have aspired to the applause of a stage audience, rather than to the appro

" is so bright,

Memory can lend no radiance from the past-
Hope can reflect no glory from the future!"

course of true love is speedily interrupted.

revenge. He poisons the mind of Gonzales, Izidora's father, against De Lerma, the father of Velasco: a feud has long prevailed between the nobles, and the flame of hatred is easily rekindled. An encounter takes place between them; De Lerma, old and infirm, is struck, disarmed and disgraced by his more vigorous foe, and

to vindicate his honor, according to the old Castilian fashion. Velasco challenges Gonzales; the old man falls, but before he expires, exacts from his daughter an oath that she will pursue his slayer to the death.

Mr. P. is already pledged to the copy right law, in the Senate.-Editor.

"The peerless Izidora! how my thoughts,
Swept by the grateful memory of her love,
Still bend to her like flowers before the breeze!"

Izidora appeals to king Ferdinand; but the royal | Or Velasco's thought of his bride:sentence acquits the knight, who has done no more than duty compelled him to do. Hernando, meanwhile, sends emissaries to murder Julio, the brother of the heroine, and takes possession of Gonzales' castle, as next male inheritor. Izidora is in his power-but she is rescued by Velasco, to whom Hernando's plot has been revealed by a page; and the guilty are arrested by the king's order. Ferdinand commands the union of Velasco and Izidora: the bridal festivities are interrupted by Julio, the lost brother, who, unable to prevail on his sister to renounce Velasco, and bound by an oath to the king not to thrust a quarrel on him, at the suggestion of Hernando, poisons the cup in which Velasco is to pledge him renewed friendship. Izidora sees the act, and snatches the goblet from the hand of her betrothed, as he raised it to his lips; but she only thereby precipitates his fate. Julio's steel is the next instant in his heart; the bride drains the poisoned cup, and expires at the feet of her relentless brother.

Or the mournful soliloquy of Izidora on her bridal eve : "Brief is the time elapsed,

It will be seen that we have here the approved materiel of modern tragedy: an uncompromising villain, who does all the mischief of the piece-a valiant knight, who conquers his enemies and dies the victim of treachery, and a faultless heroine, persecuted by fate, and suffering for the indiscretions of her relatives. The scope of a tragedy, intended for the stage, admitted little more, and gave no room whatever for the delineations of character. "Velasco" displays sufficient ability on the part of Mr. Sargent, to make us regret that his plan was not more extended. He has succeeded in what he perhaps chiefly aimed at; his play is one capable of being rendered very effective upon the stage. It abounds in striking situations: witness the scene in which Velasco first claims his lady love; the interview between Izidora and Velasco after her father's death; her discovery of his guilt; the arrest of Hernando and Mendoza; and the closing scene. These situations, and the incidents, are in harmony with the manners of the period chosen for the plot.

The verse is easy and flowing; though it lacks that startling metaphorical beauty which gives such concentrated meaning to the language of passion; that burning vehemence of expression, which so strongly fascinates the attention in some of our best writers. Milman, among recent authors, is eminent for this excellence; it is this which gives such overpowering effect to his tragedy of "Fazio." "Velasco," however, has many poetical passages. The action of the piece, though rapid, permits us occasionally to linger over touches of beauty, which are evidently the offspring of a rich imagination and the feeling of a true poet. Instance, among other passages, the description of love, by Julio :

"A cloud steeped in the sunshine! An illusion
On which concentrate passion's fiercest rays;
Your lover 's little better than a pagan;
On the heart's shrine he rears a human idol;
Imagination heightens every charm,
Brings down celestial attributes to clothe it,
And dupes the willing soul, until at length,
He kneels unto a creature of the brain-
A bright abstraction! But the cynic, Time,
Who holds the touchstone to immortal TRUTH,
Soon laughs him out of the prodigious folly!
Say-art thou one of these idolaters ?"

Since with the ashes of his great forefathers,
All that is mortal of my sire was blended.
And now-death's sable livery is changed
For bridal pomp; the wail of lamentation
For shouts of mirth—and nuptial harmonies!
And he I wed, is- -reason cannot breathe it!
Yet, in that little space, that sand of time,
What weary lives of anguish have been crowded!
What maddening thoughts! What passions and what
terrors !

Revenge and love—and duty and despair!
The fury of the elements! the shock
Of adverse fleets on a tempestuous sea!
But over all, riding the top-most wave,
Love's bark still floats triumphant!"

The only remaining extract we have room for, is the soliloquy of Velasco, after the death of Gonzales-Act III., scene III.

A glen near the castle of Gonzales; a storm is raging— with thunder and lightning; enter Velasco from the rocks in the back ground.

VELASCO.

"I lay my brow against the marble rock;
I hold it throbbing to the dewy grass;
There is no coolness in the summer rain!
The elements have lost their attributes.
The oaks are shivered round me, in the blaze
Of the near lightning, as it bursts the folds
Of its black cerements, but no gracious bolt
Blasts me or scathes! A wilder storm is here!
The fiery quiver of the clouds will be
Exhausted soon,-the hurricane will sink;
And through the vista of the western clouds
The slant rays of the setting sun will stream--
And birds, on every glistening bough, will hail
The refluent brightness and the freshened air;
But when will pass away from this sad heart
The cloud of grief-the tempest of remorse?
When will the winged hopes, that glanced and sang
In joy's melodious atmosphere, return
To welcome back the gladness of the soul?
This spot! what fatal instinct led me here?
It is our trysting place; and-ha! what form
Breaks through the shadowy gloom? 'tis Izidora!
She sees me-she advances;-knows she yet
The fearful truth? Oh, were this trial spared me!"
February, 1839.

A COMPARISON.

As fire, water, and air, are the three great powers resorted to in mechanical operations-so, analagous to these, the three impelling powers, of moral machines are, love, money, and fear. Anon.