TO THE MEMORY OF EMMA FULLER. "Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark, unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; And waste its sweetness on the desert air."-Gray's Elegy. YES, flow'rets unseen their rich perfume may shed, Thy brief span of life like a vision is fled, It is true that the blight of a flow'ret in May, And yet if we calmly reflect on thy lot, It seems like a bright page which sorrow would blot; For me, I could envy thee !-thus in the bloom Had'st thou died in thy childhood, I scarcely can tell Thou had'st lived long enough to acknowledge the sway The purest-in bosoms where innocence keeps Its watch o'er the heart, like a star o'er the deeps. Thou did'st love, and wert loved-and the future was bright, At times, with the hues of ideal delight:— But thou did'st not, when call'd on such hopes to resign, At the will of OMNIPOTENCE vainly repine. Unto HIM, who can humble the lofty and proud, Thus wert thou enabled, when dying, to bless Although, in thy lifetime, thou wast unto me Yet, when thou wast dead, while remembrance still dwelt A desire which I could not, and cannot explain, Gentle girl! to behold those mild features again. 635 They were changed-O! how much-since I look'd on them last; Yet, spite of all this-in defiance of all Death had done to disfigure, disease to appal,- B. To the Editor of the London Magazine. SIR-I am most unaffectedly conscious, that the inclosed, undertaken at your flattering suggestion, is but a poor acknowledgement for the unlooked for kindness of your notice (in the article on the British Institution; Clifton, May 14, 1821. April, No. XVI.) you must, however, accept the will for the deed. I should have sent it before, but you told, that the moods of poetry do not are not one of those who need to be come at a beck. Yours sincerely, CHARLES A. ELTON. HORACE'S ODE TO THE BANDUSIAN FOUNTAIN. Bandusia's spring! more glittering-clear than glass, Whose brow, just bourgeonning With firstling horns, decides for love and war Thy crystal, cooling rills. Thee the fierce dog-star in his blazing hour With thy voluptuous cool. Thy place is with the famous streams: for I 636 Horses. HORSES. Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.-Shakspeare. I LOVE horses Para pintar la verdad O haberla visto di cerca.-El Principe de Esquilache. A saddle is my throne--give me but the Bucephalus I esteem-and i'faith I envy not the wealth of princes. Some men have twenty, some fifty horses--I have but one,--I never had but three in my life-the two companions of my youth, alas! are dust. -My horse is a friend, I wear him in my heart-there is no place for another of the same species. His eye recognizes me--he bounds with delight at our meeting-his whole soul seems bent on pleasing me→ what would he not attempt at my bidding? The least motion suffices -he never demurs-but takes a pleasure in obeying me-and often anticipates my wishes.-There is no deceit in this. ac Some men use their horses as mere slaves-I never had such an quaintance. Whip me the fellow who first set the brutal example of depriving thee of thy eloquent ears—they are even more communicative than thy spiritsparkling eye-how palpably do they express thy sensations-thy surprise-desire-terror-delight-and emulation-they are speech to theemay better-for their's is a discourse which men of every tongue, as well as all thy fellows, understand. Nature teaches them the art, or rather, "the art itself is nature."- Beshrew the tasteless bipeds, who rob thee of the flowing honours of thy tail-thy protection against the infinite tormentors of thy glowing reins, galled in the service of man-who pitilessly despoils thee of the fee of naturethy very birthright-to bedeck himself with that which he asserts would disfigure thee. I remember, when I was a mere infant, my grandfather used to place me on the back of one of the most celebrated horses of his day. I never beheld such a high-mettled creature since he suffered very few persons to approach him-and only one man (his jockey) ever ventured to ride him.-Restless, fiery, and impatient in the extreme, he subsided into a state of anxious, breathless stillness, the moment I (a puny helpless child) was placed on him.—'Twas like shedding oil upon a raging sea. Horses are as different in their dispositions as in their outward forms. There is your horse mettlesome, and your incorrigible proser-your self-conceited curvetting palfrey, and your plain-spirited, unsophisticated, unaspiring dobbin-your steed capricious-and your laudable businesslooking horse of application, and many hundred others-besides your right gallant cavallo-the most noble beast in the creation--a combination of beauty, strength, and activity-a glorious example of nature's power (I love to meet such a creature in full unrestrained liberty, and high spirits on a wide race-tempting heath)-they all have their faultseven the very best of them--but in sooth I am in marvellous good fellowship with the whole race-individually, and in the aggregate— the very dullest rogues have a redeeming spark of good-nature in their compositions. The most admirable object on earth is a fair woman gallantly mounted on a beautiful palfrey-a sweet calm-looking Quakeress, on a demure milk-white animal, glided by me one evening, as I was doating on the last rays of the setting sun-Dost thou think I shall ever forget the beautiful vision, reader? I seldom bestow a thought on Alexander--but Bucephalus, the most chivalric of the race-the beau-ideal of steeds, occupies the sister niche in my memory, to that which holds the Knight of la Mancha's neverRozito-be-forgotten creature nante. Who has not heard the pathetic song of "The High-mettled Racer?" I should desire no greater glory than to have been the author of that song.-I often lament my in 6 ness!"- "Joy of the happy!"-delight of knight and lady fair in every age!-What would chivalry be without thee?-thou art associated with every thing that's gay or gallant in its records!-thou art remembered with advantages at the tilt and tourney, with bright eyes beaming around thee-and "preux chevaliers," gorgeously bedecked heralds, and faithful squires, in thy company-fluttering hearts, and ardent spirits breathing love and galelastic!-what energy in every aclantry all about thee-what limbs tion!-what buoyancy of spirit beaning from thine eye!-who does not applaud thy gallant bearing!-Friend of mankind-I love thee. CHEVALIER ON SOUTHEY'S HISTORIES OF RELIGIOUS SECTS. DR. JOHNSON, I think, once said of women's preaching, that it was like a dog's walking on his hind legs: the thing was never well done; but you were surprised at seeing it attempted. Perhaps, in the estimation of many, the simile may be considered as applicable, in degree, to our Poet Laureate's essays in Religious Biography. I cannot say that I am precisely of this opinion: and, incongruous as it may appear, that the author of the Old Woman of Berkely, and the Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom, should take in hand to discuss the Rise and Progress of Religious Sects, as well as to comment on the actions and motives of their founders-I, for one, have no objection to it: at least the doubt and hesitation, which I certainly do entertain as to the success of the attempt, are more than counterbalanced by my curiosity; and by the conviction I feel that no serious evil is likely to accrue from failure; while even tolerable success can scarcely fail to do good. One of the Reviewers of the Life of Wesley, if I recollect right, began his critical notice of that work by the inquiry, "Is Mr. Southey a Me thodist ?"-and further assumes as an axiom that none but a Methodist ought to write the Life of one. Now I frankly own I do not see the logic of this position. If the biography of any sectary be intended, primarily, if not exclusively, for the edification and advantage of the sect to which he belonged, then I will admit that no one can be competent to the task who does not possess similarity of faith, and somewhat of identity of feeling. The reasons for such incompetency are obvious. One not thus gifted is likely to be occasionally in the dark as to the feelings, motives, and views, which influenced the conduct of the subject of his history; and he is equally liable to fail in that tact, by which alone access can be won to the sensibility and judgment of those for whom he writes. If, for instance, Mr. Southey had undertaken his Life of Wesley, with an idea, when it was finished, of presenting it to The Conference, that it might, under their sanction, become a standard work among the Methodists; or if he were now engaged on the Life of George Fox, with any view of obtaining the imprimatur of the Morning Meeting,* The Morning Meeting in London, is, I believe, a sort of standing committee of the sect of the Society of Friends, to whose inspection religious works, intended for the society's use, are submitted prior to publication. 638 On Southey's Histories of Religious Sects. in London, that his Octavos may The object which I am willing to [June moment, dispute, as a probable re- |