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contribute essentially to keep a state like England in health; but we must not overlook the greater facility of colonising at home. Would it not be desirable that tracts of waste land should be purchased with public money, to be held as national domains, and colonised with our disbanded soldiers and sailors, and people who are in want of employment, dividing them into estates of different sizes according to the capability of the speculators, and allotting to every cottage that should be erected there a certain proportion of ground? Thas should we make immediate provision for those brave men whose services are no longer required for the defence of their country;—thus should we admisister immediate relief to the poor, lighten the poorrates, give occupation to various branches of manufacture, and provide a permanent source of revenue, accruing from the increased prosperity of the country. There never was a time when every rood of ground maintamed its man; but surely it is allowable to hope that whole districts will not always be suffered to lie waste while multitudes are in want of employment and of bread.

A daty scarcely less urgent than that of diminishing the burthen of the poor-rates, is that of providing for the education of the lower classes. Government must no longer, in neglect of its first and paramount duty, low them to grow up in worse than heathen ignorance. They must be trained in the way they should go: they must be taught to "fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man." Mere reading and writing will not do this: they must be instructed according to the established religion; they must be fed with the milk of sound doctrine: for states are secure in proportion as the great body of the people are attached to the institutions of their ountry. A moral and religious education will induce abits of industry; the people will know their duty, and find their interest and their happiness in followag it. Give us the great boon of parochial education, connected with the church as to form part of the stablishment, and we shall find it a bulwark to the late as well as to the church. Let this be done, let aving banks be generally introduced, let new channels industry be opened (as soon as the necessities of he state will permit) by a liberal expenditure in public arks, by colonising our waste lands at home and realarly sending off our swarms abroad, and the strength, realth, and security of the nation will be in proportion

> its numbers.

Never, indeed, was there a more senseless cry than at which is at this time raised, for retrenchment in e public expenditure as a means of alleviating the resent distress. That distress arises from a great ad sudden diminution of employment, occasioned by any coinciding causes, the chief of which is that the Far-expenditure of from forty to fifty millions yearly as ceased. Men are out of employ:—the evil is that little is spent,--and, as a remedy, we are exorted to spend less! Every where there are mouths rying out for food because the hands want work; ad at this time, and for this reason, the state-quack equires further reduction! Because so many hands re unemployed, he calls upon government to throw are upon the public, by reducing its establishments and suspending its works! O lepidum caput! And I is by such heads as this that we are to be reformed! *Statesmen," says Mr. Burke, "before they value themselves on the relief given to the people by the destruction (or diminution) of their revenue, ought

first to have carefully attended to the solution of this problem-whether it be more advantageous to the people to pay considerably, and to gain in proportion; or to gain little or nothing, and to be disburthened of all contribution." And in another place this great statesman says, "the prosperity and improvement of nations has generally increased with the increase of their revenues; and they will both continue to grow and flourish, as long as the balance between what is left to strengthen the efforts of individuals, and what is collected for the common efforts of the state, bear to each other a due reciprocal proportion, and are kept in a close correspondence and communication." This opinion is strikingly corroborated by the unexampled prosperity which the country enjoyed during the war, -a war of unexampled expenditure: and the stupendous works of antiquity, the ruins of which at this day so mournfully attest the opulence and splendour of states which have long since ceased to exist, were in no slight degree the causes of that prosperity of which they are the proofs. Instead therefore of this senseless cry for retrenchment, which is like prescribing depletion for a patient whose complaints proceed from inanition, a liberal expenditure should be advised in works of public utility and magnificence. For if experience has shown us that increased expenditure during war, and a proportionately increasing prosperity, have been naturally connected as cause and consequence, it is neither rash nor illogical to infer, that a liberal expenditure in peace upon national works would produce the same beneficial effect, without any of the accompanying evil. Money thus expended will flow like chyle into the veins of the state, and nourish and invigorate it. Build, therefore, our monuments for Trafalgar and Waterloo, and let no paltry considerations prevent them from being made worthy of the occasion, and of the country;-of the men who have fought, conquered, and died for us;-of Nelson, of Wellington, and of Great Britain. Let them be such as may correspond in splendour with the actions to which they are consecrated, and vie, if possible, in duration, with the memory of those immortal events. They are for after-ages; the more magnificent they may be, the better will they manifest the national sense of great public services, and the more will they excite and foster that feeling in which great actions have their root. In proportion to their magnificence, also, will be the present benefit, as well as the future good; for they are not, like the Egyptian pyramids, to be raised by bondsmen under rigorous taskmasters: the wealth which is taken from the people returns to them again, like vapours which are drawn imperceptibly from the earth, but distributed to it in refreshing dews and fertilising showers. What bounds could imagination set to the welfare and glory of this island, if a tenth part, or even a twentieth of what the war expenditure has been, were annually applied in improving and creating harbours, in bringing our roads to the best possible state, in colonising upon our waste lands, in reclaiming fens and conquering tracts from the sea, in encouraging the liberal arts, in erecting churches, in building and endowing schools and colleges, and making war upon physical and moral evil with the whole artillery of wisdom and righteousness, with all the resources of science, and all the ardour of enlightened and enlarged benevolence?

It is likewise incumbent upon government to take heed lest, in its solicitude for raising the necessary

revenue, there should be too little regard for the means by which it is raised. It should beware of imposing such duties as create a strong temptation to evade them. It should be careful that all its measures tend, as much as possible, to the improvement of the people, and especially careful that nothing be done which can tend in any way to corrupt them. It should reform its prisons; and apply some remedy to the worst grievance which exists,-the enormous expenses, the chicanery, and the ruinous delays of the law. Machiavelli says, that legislators ought to suppose all men to be naturally bad;—in no point has that sagacious statesman been more erroneous. Fitter it is, that governments should think well of mankind; for the better they think of them, the better they will find them, and the better they will make them. Government must reform the populace, the people must reform themselves. This is the true reform; and compared with this all else is flocci, nauci, nihili, pili.

Such, Sir, are in part the views of the man whom you have traduced. Had you perused his writings, you could not have mistaken them; and I am willing to believe that if you had done this, and formed an opinion for yourself, instead of retailing that of wretches who are at once the panders of malice and the pioneers of rebellion, you would neither have been so far forgetful of your parliamentary character, nor of the decencies between man and man, as so wantonly, so unjustly, and in such a place, to have attacked one who had given you no provocation.

Did you imagine that I should sit down quietly under the wrong, and treat your attack with the same silent contempt as I have done all the abuse and calumny with which, from one party or the other, Antijacobins or Jacobins, I have been assailed in daily, weekly, monthly, and quarterly publications, since the year 1796, when I first became known to

the public? The place where you made the attack, and the manner of the attack, prevent this.

How far the writings of Mr. Southey may be found to deserve a favourable acceptance from afterages, time will decide; but a name, which, whether worthily or not, has been conspicuous in the literary history of its age, will certainly not perish. Some account of his life will always be prefixed to his works, and transferred to literary histories, and to the biographical dictionaries, not only of this, but of other countries. There it will be related, that he lived in the bosom of his family, in absolute retirement; that in all his writings there breathed the same abhorrence of oppression and immorality, the same spirit of devotion, and the same ardent wishes for the melioration of mankind; and that the only charge which malice could bring against him was that, as he grew older, his opinions altered concerning the means by which that melioration was to be effected; and that as he learned to understand the institutions of his country, he learned to appreciate them rightly, to love, and to revere, and to defend them. It will be said of him, that in an age of personality, he abstained from satire; and that during the course of his literary life, often as he was assailed. the only occasion on which he ever condescended reply, was, when a certain Mr. William Smith insulted him in parliament with the appellation of renegade. On that occasion, it will be said, that i vindicated himself, as it became him to do, and treate his calumniator with just and memorable severity Whether it shall be added, that Mr. William Sm redeemed his own character, by coming forward will honest manliness and acknowledging that he ha spoken rashly and unjustly, concerns himself, bat s not of the slightest importance to me.

Heaven and Earth;

A MYSTERY.(1)

ROBERT SOUTHEY

FOUNDED ON THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE IN GENESIS, CHAP. VI.

"And it came to pass... that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose."

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I love our God less since his angel loved me:
This cannot be of good; and though I know not
That I do wrong, I feel a thousand fears

Which are not ominous of right.

Ako.

Then wed thee Ento some son of clay, and toil and spin! There's Japhet loves thee well, hath loved thee long: Marry, and bring forth dust! Anah.

I should have loved Azaziel not less were he mortal; yet

I am glad he is not. I can not outlive him.
And when I think that his immortal wings
Wil one day hover o'er the sepulchre

Of the poor child of clay which so adored him,
As he adores the Highest, death becomes
Les terrible; but yet I pity him:

His grief will be of ages, or at least

Mine would be such for him, were I the seraph, And he the perishable.

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Rather say, That he will single forth some other daughter Of Earth, and love her as he once loved Anah. Anah. And if it should be so, and she loved him, Better thus than that he should weep for me. Aho. If I thought thus of Samiasa's love, All seraph as he is, I'd spurn him from me. Bat to our invocation!-'Tis the hour. Seraph!

Anah.

From thy sphere!

Whatever star contain thy glory;
In the eternal depths of heaven

Albeit thou watchest with "the seven," (1) Though through space infinite and hoary Before thy bright wings worlds be driven,

Yet hear!

Oh! think of her who holds thee dear!
And though she nothing is to thee,

Yet think that thou art all to her.
Thou canst not tell,-and never be
Such pangs decreed to aught save me,—

at least some of the chorus might have been written by Sternbold and Hopkins themselves for that, and perhaps for Rendy. As it is longer, and more lyrical and Greek, than intended at first, I have not divided it into acts, but talled what I have sent Part First; as there is a suspen.

of the action, which may either close there without impropriety, or be continued in a way that I have in Tiew, I wish the first part to be published before the econd; because, if it don't succeed, it is better to stop there, than to go on in a fruitless experiment." Though without delay revised by Mr. Gifford, and printed, this "First Part" was not published till 1822, when it appeared in the second number of the Liberal. The Mystery was never completed.

The great power of this Mystery is in its fearless and daring simplicity. Lord Byron faces at once all the randeur of his sublime subject. He seeks for nothing, but it rises before him in its death-doomed magnificence. Man, angel, or demon, the being who mourns, or laments, or

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Aho.

My own Azaziel! be but here,

And leave the stars to their own light.

Samiasa!
Wheresoe'er

Thou rulest in the upper air

Or warring with the spirits who may dare
Dispute with him

Who made all empires, empire; or recalling

Some wandering star, which shoots through the abyss,
Whose tenants dying, while their world is falling,
Share the dim destiny of clay in this;
Or joining with the inferior cherubim,
Thou deignest to partake their hymn-
Samiasa!

I call thee, I await thee, and I love thee.
Many may worship thee, that will I not:
If that thy spirit down to mine may move thee,
Descend and share my lot!

Though I be form'd of clay,

And thou of beams

exults, is driven to speak by his own soul.

The angels deign not to use many words, even to their beautiful paramours; and they scorn Noah and his sententious sons. The first scene is a woody and mountainous district, near Mount Ararat; and the time midnight. Mortal creatures, conscious of their own wickedness, have heard awful predictions of the threatened flood, and all their lives are darkened with terror. But the sons of God have been dwellers on earth, and women's hearts have been stirred by the beauty of these celestial visitants. Anah and Aholibamah, two of these angel-stricken maidens, come wandering along while others sleep, to pour forth their invocations to their demon lovers. They are of very different characters; Anah, soft, gentle and submissive; Aholibamah, proud, impetuous, and aspiring-the one loving in fear, and the other in ambition." Wilson.-L E.

(1) The archangels, said to be seven in number, and to occupy the eighth rank in the celestial hierarchy.

More bright than those of day
On Eden's streams,

Thine immortality can not repay
With love more warm than mine

My love. There is a ray

In me, which, though forbidden yet to shine,
I feel was lighted at thy God's and thine.
It may be hidden long: death and decay

Our mother Eve bequeath'd us-but my heart
Defies it: though this life must pass away,

Is that a cause for thee and me to part? Thou art immortal-so am I: I feel

I feel my immortality o'ersweep

All pains, all tears, all fears, and peal,

Like the eternal thunders of the deep,

Into my ears this truth-"Thou livest for ever!">
But if it be in joy

I know not, nor would know;
That secret rests with the Almighty giver

Who folds in clouds the fonts of bliss and woe.
But thee and me he never can destroy;
Change us he may, but not o'erwhelm ; we are
Of as eternal essence, and must war
With him if he will war with us: with thee

I can share all things, even immortal sorrow; For thou hast ventured to share life with me, And shall I shrink from thine eternity?

No! though the serpent's sting should pierce me
thorough,

And thou thyself wert like the serpent, coil
Around me still! and I will smile,

And curse thee not; but hold

Thee in as warm a fold

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(1) "This invocation is extremely beautiful: its chief beauty lies in the continuous and meandering flow of its im passioned versification. At its close,-and it might well win down to earth erring angels from heaven,-the maidens disappear in the midnight darkness, hoping the presence of their celestial lovers." Wilson.-L. E.

(2) "Lord Byron here takes a wide career, and is sometimes obscure and confused; but the flashes of fire continually break through, and illumine the clouds of smoke and vapour. The extravagance is dictated by passion. His muse, even in her riddles and digressions, has a syhil-like prophetic fury." Jeffrey.-L. E.

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(3) "In the second scene, Japhet, Noah's son, and Ira the earthly and despised lovers of the two maidensappear. Their talk is somewhat dull; which, we presam is natural in such circumstances." Wilson.-L. E.

(4) "This is one of those bitter taunting sarcasms tha escape from Lord Byron's pen, in spite of himself. Japh is afterwards introduced alone, in a mountainous cave and his soliloquy, bemoaning his own fate, and the at proaching destruction of mankind, is interrupted by a lang of demons, rejoicing over the event. This scene is terrific. Jeffrey.-L. E.

Japh.
For being happy,
Deprived of that which makes my misery.
Irad. I take thy taunt as part of thy distemper;
And would not feel as thou dost, for more shekels
Than all our father's herds would bring, if weigh'd
Against the metal of the sons of Cain-

The yellow dust they try to barter with us,
As if such useless and discolour'd trash,
The refuse of the earth, could be received

For milk, and wool, and flesh, and fruits, and all
Our flocks and wilderness afford.-Go, Japhet,
Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon-
I must back to my rest.
Japh.

If I could rest.

And so would I,

Irad. Thou wilt not to our tents, then?
Japh. No, Irad; I will to the cavern, whose
Month they say opens from the internal world,
To let the inner spirits of the earth

Forth, when they walk its surface.
Irad.

What wouldst thou there?
Japh.

Wherefore so?

Enter NOAH and SHEM.

Noah. Where is thy brother Japhet? Shem.

He went forth,

According to his wont, to meet with Irad,

He said; but, as I fear, to bend his steps

Towards Anah's tents, round which he hovers nightly,
Like a dove round and round its pillaged nest;
Or else he walks the wild up to the cavern
Which opens to the heart of Ararat.

Noah. What doth he there? It is an evil spot
Upon an earth all evil; for things worse
Than even wicked men resort there: he
Still loves this daughter of a fated race,
Although he could not wed her if she loved him,
And that she doth not. Oh, the unhappy hearts
Of men! that one of my blood, knowing well
The destiny and evil of these days,
And that the hour approacheth, should indulge
In such forbidden yearnings! Lead the way;
He must be sought for!
Shem.

Soothe further my sad spirit I will seek Japhet. Noah.

With gloom as sad: it is a hopeless spot,

And I am hopeless.

Ired.

But 't is dangerous;

Strange sounds and sights have peopled it with terrors.

I must go with thee.

Japh.

Irad, no; believe me

I feel no evil thought, and fear no evil.

Irad. But evil things will be thy foe the more, As not being of them: turn thy steps aside,

Or let mine be with thine.
Japh.

I must proceed alone.
Irad.

No, neither, Irad;

Then peace be with thee!

[Exit IRAD. Japh. (solus.) Peace! I have sought it where it

should be found,

In love-with love, too, which perhaps deserved it;
And, in its stead, a heaviness of heart-
A weakness of the spirit-listless days,
And nights inexorable to sweet sleep-

Have come upon me. Peace! what peace? the calm
Of desolation, and the stillness of
The untrodden forest, only broken by

The sweeping tempest through its groaning boughs;
Such is the sullen or the fitful state

Of my mind overworn. The earth's grown wicked;
And many signs and portents have proclaim'd
change at hand, and an o'erwhelming doom
To perishable beings. Oh, my Anah!

When the dread hour denounced shall open wide
The fountains of the deep, how mightest thou
lave lain within this bosom, folded from
The elements; this bosom, which in vain
Lath beat for thee, and then will beat more vainly,
While thine-Oh, God! at least remit to her
by wrath! for she is pure amidst the failing
As a star in the clouds, which cannot quench
though they obscure it for an hour. My Anah!
dow would I have adored thee, but thou wouldst not;
Lad still would I redeem thee-see thee live
When ocean is earth's grave, and, unopposed
by rock or shallow, the leviathan,
ord of the shoreless sea and watery world,
hall wonder at his boundlessness of realm.
[Exit JAPHET.

Go not forward, father;

Do not fear for me:

All evil things are powerless on the man
Selected by Jehovah.-Let us on.

Shem. To the tents of the father of the sisters?
Noah. No; to the cavern of the Caucasus.

[Exeunt NOAH and SHEM.

SCENE III.

The Mountains.-A Cavern, and the Rocks of

Caucasus.

Japh. (solus.) Ye wilds, that look eternal; and thou cave,

Which seem'st unfathomable; and ye mountains,
So varied and so terrible in beauty;
Here, in your rugged majesty of rocks

And toppling trees, that twine their roots with stone
In perpendicular places, where the foot

Of man would tremble, could he reach them--yes,
Ye look eternal! Yet, in a few days,
Perhaps even hours, ye will be changed, rent, hurl'd
Before the mass of waters; and yon cave,
Which seems to lead into a lower world,
Shall have its depths search'd by the sweeping wave,
And dolphins gambol in the lion's den!
And man- -Oh, men! my fellow-beings! Who
Shall weep above your universal grave,
Save I? Who shall be left to weep? My kinsmen
Alas! what am I better than ye are,
That I must live beyond ye? Where shall be
The pleasant places where I thought of Anah
While I had hope? or the more savage haunts,
Scarce less beloved, where I despair'd for her?
And can it be!-Shall yon exulting peak,
Whose glittering top is like a distant star,
Lie low beneath the boiling of the deep?
No more to have the morning sun break forth,
And scatter back the mists in floating folds
From its tremendous brow? no more to have
Day's broad orb drop behind its head at even,
Leaving it with a crown of many hues?
No more to be the beacon of the world,
For angels to alight on, as the spot

Nearest the stars? And can those words "no more"

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