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Among those serious and vexatious Radical. The poor Duke asked for an affairs the public have had a little re- increase, of his pension, that pension laxation in laughing at the misfore being on the whole, equal to the antunes of his Royal Highness the Duke nual interest of half a million of of Sussex. This Royal Duke has been money ; his only discoverable plea notorious for many years as a Whig being that he would extremely like to " and something more," as a liberal of have more money than during his the most vociferous kind. Nature sixty years of drowsy existence he had having given the Royal Duke no ta- ever possessed. No one in the House lents whatever, he could not like some was cruel enough to ask what he had of his betters, abuse them, and his prin- done for all that he had got from the ciples having been taught by Whigs, nation already. The royal patriot the character of those principles may and petitioner never having held any be left for the amusement of the public. office, never rendered any service,

But during his whole life the topics never been heard of in any human of his oratory were the abomination shape of any possible exertion for the of living upon the public,-his own public behoof. The case was so de. huge pension, we presume, being the cisive, that, prodigal as the House was reward of intended services, he never the petiton slept on the table. The baving rendered any in the sixty years result was lamentable ; the Royal of his being His Royal Highness Duke gave up the Presidentship of the was in perpetual agonies at the idea Royal Society, to which his prodigious of pensions and places, and titles con- discoveries among the stars, or possibly ferred without canse, of royal extrava- his investigation of the philosopher's gance, and Ministerial corruption. stone, doubtless entitled him ; wrote a The friend of the patriotic party who lacrymose letter to the Fellows, which sang and swore that self-denial, public was intended to arouse the very inseneconomy, and personal disinterested- sible feelings of the public, and, declar. ness had taken refuge among them ing that he was unable to support the ex. alone, could do no less than flourish penses of this formidable elevation, re. his commonplaces at taverns and tea- tired, covered with, we presume, glory. drinkings, and preach cheap living The men of science it must be and liberty. All this was often looked owned, have not been altogether on with surprise, when it was remem- pleased with the reason, however they bered that his Royal Highness him. may have been with the result. They self was one of the most palpable cases did not choose to be regarded as have of sinecurism in the kingdom; and that ing eaten up a Royal Duke, as churchthe success of his doctrines would wardens were once said to devour a have driven him to the hopeless ne- child. Accordingly some lively corcessity of earning his bread by the la- respondence has followed. bour of his brains or hands. Still his The point in question is the Royal Royal Highness harangued, and while Duke's inability to support the heavy there seemed no chance of his getting expenses of his Presidentship. This any thing from the Treasury he was is an unlucky confession to be thrown the most averse of any man living to among so many arithmeticians. They condescend to the national offence of have since been busy in the calcula. making any demand upon the finances tion how much it may have cost his of what he, as regularly as the tavern Royal Highness to give tea and cakes bell rang, pronounced an impoverish- which were all that his Royal Highness ed, beggared, cruelly burthened, and ever gave. Some take the items of so forth, nation.

the tea, which they assert might be a But the hope of other things dawn- couple of pounds at five shillings each, ed. He saw the Duchess of Kent, as on his soirees. And others distinctly her expenses decreased, getting an state, that those soirees, last year, augmentation to her income, and the amounted only to four, and allowing Duke, old as he was, thought that as for candles, sugar, cream, &c.—for to his merits were quite equal, so might these calculations the melancholy anhis luck. He accordingly made his nouncement of his Royal Highness's proposal, through the bowels of com- dilapidation have naturally driven passion of Mr. Gillon, a young gentle. them the amount might be, at the man, who, in default of all other claims outside, about L.200 per annum, on public attention, avows himself a which, deducted from his public

allowance of L.18,000 a-year (with, if not frugal good taste, and that, in other matters, amounting to L.21,000), the simplicity of their style, there was leaves only the small sum of L.20,800 nothing to contrast offensively with to meet the troubles of this world. the ordinary habits of ths guests ; Dot,

A sensible, and by no means an I should have thought to increase in uncourteous letter, on this subject has any sensible degree the expenses of appeared, utterly denying that the ex- your establishment.” penses of the Presidentship could be a All, this will be extremely well reburden to any one with a tenth or a lished by the country, though we shal hundredth of the unhappy Royal not answer for the Royal Duke's equaDuke's income.

nimity on the occasion. The truth is, It says, “ I have been thirty years that all men are extremely glad when a Fellow of the Society, and have fre- pretexts and pretences exhibit them quently had the honour of being elect- selves the things they are. Paying all ed to the Council. I have attended due respect to rank and royalty, we the evening parties of Sir J. Banks, bave seen nothing in the conduct of Sir H. Davy, and Mr. Gilbert í this man, whether young or old, to have also attended, I believe, all the justify any kind of regret on the occa

soirees' at your Royal Highness' sion. A Whig prince in the modem residence, to which I was honoured sense of Whiggism, is an anomaly and with an invitation, and I think I may an absurdity. If Radicalism were say that these have not amounted to four triumphant for a week, it would strip altogether, and that, except your Royal every prince in the land of title, penHighness frank and gracious reception sion, honours, and coat and breeches, of your guests, there was nothing to dis- and send them roving the earth like tinguish them from the evening parties the unfortunate French nobility. so frequent in London, in which a pri But we warn the country that the vate gentleman gives tea, coffee, and experiment on the parliamentary ris conversation to bis literary friends." cera is to be repeated. The - Date

It continues in the same quiet, but obolum Belisario', will not altogether perfectly intelligible style I can answer in the instance of a petitioner only say that the meetings which I who “ of the division of a battle knows attended, though perhaps too few in no more than a spinster.** We recommumber, were conducted with plain, mend the following :

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
Ready to beg the utmost that he can,

And humbly take his twenty thousand more.
Whose gartered limbs his poverty bespeak,

A talk ing, trifling, brain-bewildered thing,
Whose name in vain in History's page you'll seek ;

Who never served his country or his king.
What were a palace by the public given,

A lavish pension, title and a star?
Now comes hemby the price of Congo driven,

To hold his hand up at your worships' bar.
For forty years, just thirty times he dined

Per month, where Charity supplied the meal,
But years will come—this practice has declined,

And now he lives, hard fare, upon his zeal.
When once the Savans with his tvast made free,

(Dinners and suppers were beyond a prince),
Fate struck the hour when first he gave them tea,

He ne'er has known a smile, nor sixpence since.
In vain the presidential glories rose,

Sir Joseph's three-cocked hat, Sir Isaac's chair,
Sir Humphrey's rapier, Gilbert's well-darned hose,

The spectre of the grocer's bill was there.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man.

Whose trembling legs have borne him to your door,
Ready to beg the utmost that he can,

And humbly take his twenty thousand more.

J. B. & A. B

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COLERIDGE's Christabel is the most es of the tree, would seem to be doing exquisite of all his inspirations; and, the injustice of neglect to the elegance incomplete as it is, affects the imagi- of its foliage, and the microscopic nation more magically than any other perfection of every single leaf. Those poem concerning the preternatural. who now read it for the first time, will We are all the while in our own real scarcely be disposed to assent to so and living world, and in the heart of much praise ; but the man to whom it its best and most delightful affections. is familiar will remember how it has Yet trouble is brought among them grown to his own liking-how much from some region lying beyond our of melody, depth, nature, and inken, and we are alarmed by the sha- vention, he has found from time to dows of some strange calamity over- time hiding in some simple phrase hanging a life of beauty, piety, and or unobtrusive epithet.” In peace. We resign all our thoughts poem can “every line be a picture ;" and feelings to the power of the mys- and there is little or no meaning in tery-seek to enjoy rather than to what Mr. Tupper says above about solve it—and desire that it may be the tree; but our wonder is, how, with not lengthened but prolonged, so his feeling of the beauty of Christabel, strong is the hold that superstitious he could have so blurred and marred Fear has of the human heart, entering it in his unfortunate sequel. it in the light of a startling beauty, excuse,” he says, “ for continuing the while Evil shows itself in a shape of fragment at all, will be found in Coleheaven; and in the shadows that Ge- ridge's own words to the preface of nius throws over it, we know not whe- the 1816 pamphlet edition, where he ther we be looking at Sin or Inno- says, I trust that I shall be able to cence, Guilt or Grief.

embody in verse the three parts yet Coleridge could not complete Chris- to come, in the course of the present tabel. The idea of the poem, no doubt, year'-a half promise which, I need dwelt always in his imagination—but scarcely observe, has never been rethe poet knew that power was not deemed.Mr. Tupper continues:-" In given him to robe it in words. The the following attempt I may be cenWritten rose up between him and the sured for rashness, or commended for Unwritten; and seeing that it was courage ; of course, I am fully aware, “ beautiful exceedingly," his soul was that to take up the pen where COLEsatisfied, and shunned the labour— RIDGE has laid it down, and that in the though a labour of love of a new wildest and most original of his poems, creation,

is a most difficult, nay, dangerous proTherefore tis but a Fragment— ceeding ; but upon these very charac. and for the sake of all that is most teristics of difficulty and danger I wild and beautiful, let it remain so for humbly rely ; trusting that, in all pro

But we are forgetting our- per consideration for the boldness of selves; as many people as choose may the experiment, if I be adjudged to publish what they call continuations fail, the fall of Icarus may be broken; and sequels of Christabel—but not if I be accounted te succeed, the flight one of them all will be suffered to live. of Dædalus may apologize for his preIf beyond a month any one of them is sumption.” “Finally," he says, “ I observed struggling to protract its deem it due to myself to add, what I ricketty existence, it will assuredly be trust will not be turned against me, strangled, as we are about to strangle viz. that, if not written literally curMr. Tupper's Geraldine.

rente calamo, GERALDINE has been Mr. Tupper is a man of talent, and the pleasant labour of but a very few in his Preface writes, on the whole, ju- days." diciously of Christabel. “Every word Mr. Tupper does not seem to know tells every line is a picture : simple, that Christabel “was continued” many beautiful, and imaginative, it retains years ago, in a style that perplexed its hold upon the mind by so many the public and pleased even Coleridge. delicate feelers and touching points. The ingenious writer meant it for a that to outline harshly the main branch- mere jeu de esprit-but “Geraldine"


is dead serious, and her father hopes These few words signify some unimaan immortal fame. We neither “cen- gipable horror—and never did genius, sure him for rashness nor commend not even Shakspeare's, so give to one him for courage,” but are surprised at of its creations, by dim revelation his impertinence, and pained by his mysteriously diffused, a fearful being stupidity—and the more for that he that all at once is present “beyond possesses powers that, within their the reaches of our souls”—something own proper province, may gain him fiendish in what is most fair, and blastreputation. We like him, and hope ing in what is most beautiful. to praise him some day-nay, purpose Powerful as Prospero was Coleto praise him this very day—therefore ridge; but what kind of a wand is we shall punish him at present but waved by Mr. Tupper? with forty stripes. He need not fear “ Thickly curls a poisonous smoke, a fall like that of Icarus, for his artific And terrible shapes with evil names cial wings have not lifted his body Are leaping around in a circle of flames, fairly off the ground—and so far from And the tost air whirls, storm-driven, soaring through the sky like a Dæda. And the rent earth quakes, charm-riven-lus, he labours along the sod after the And-art thou not afraid ?" fashion of a Dodo. In the summer of Previous to these apparitions, the 1797, Coleridge wrote the first part wolf has been hunting, the raven of Christabel—in 1800, the second - croaking, the owl screeching, the clock and published them in 1816-30 per- of course tolling twelve, fected, that his genius, in its happiest

“ And to her cauldron hath hurried the hours, feared to look its own poem in

witch, the face, and left it for many long And aroused the deep bay of the mastiff years, and at last, without an altered

bitch ;" or an added word, to the delight of all ages. Mr. Tupper's “ GERALDINE has

The moon is gibbous, and looks

“ like an eye-ball of sorrow," and yet been the pleasant labour of a very few

is called "sun of the night,”—most days !”-(Loud cries of Oh! oh! oh !")

perversely—and oh! how unlike the Mr. Tupper in the Third Canto with the Sun of the Night” shining,

sure inspiration of Coleridge! While, shows us the Lady Geraldine beneath the oak--the scene of the Witch's first Geraldine is absurdly said to be meeting with Christabel. You remem

“Fair truant-like an angel of light, ber the lines in Coleridge-and more Hiding from heaven in dark midnight." vividly these

One touch of the Poet's would have “ There she sees a damsel bright,

shown the scene in all the power of Drest in a silken robe of white,

midnight, by such an accumulation of That standing in the moonlight shone:

ineffective and contradictory imagery The neck that made the white robe wan, thus utterly destroyed. S.T.C. made Her stately neck and arms were bare ; the Witch dreadful-M. F. T. makes Her blue-veined fect unsandelled were, her disgusting. And wildly glittered here and there

“ All dauntless stands the maid The gems entangled in her hair.

In mystical robe array'd, I guess, twas frightful there to see

And still with flashing eyes A lady so richly clad as she,

She dares the sorrowful skies, Beautiful exceedingly!

And to the moon, like one possest, And you remember how Christabel, Hath shown-0 dread! that face so after that


Should smile above so shrunk a breast, “Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness,

Haggard and brown, as bangeth thereO evil sight!-wrinkled and old,

The dug of a witch, and clammy cold, -On her elbow did recline To look at the Lady Geraldinc."

Where in warm beauty's rarest mould

Is fashioned all the rest." And how, when the Witch unbound her cincture,

" Muttering wildly through her set teeth, “Her silken robe and inner vest

She secketh and stirreth the demons be. Dropt to her feet, and full in view,

neath." Behold! her bosom and half her side, Why-were not already “ terrible A sight to dream of, not to tell !

shapes with evil names leaping around O shield her! shield swect Christabel!" a circle of flames ?" But

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Now one nearer than others is heard Green as the herbs on which it couched, flapping this way, as a huge sea-bird Close by the dove's its head it crouched ; Or lıker the dark.dwelling ravenous shark And with the dove it heaves and stirs, Cleaving through the waters dark.” Swelling its neck as she swelled hers! Of her or him we hear no more, I woke; it was the inidnight hour, and it is well—but who that ever saw

The clock was echoing in the tower; - shark in the sea would say that his But though my slumber was gone by, Etyle of motion was like that of a huge It seems to live upon my eye!

This dream it would not pass a waysea-bird flapping its wings ? Geral. And thence I vowed this self same day, Tine feels “the spell hath power,” With music strong and saintly song and

To wander through the forest lone, · Her mouth grows wide, and her face Lest aught unholy loiter there." falls in,

How beautiful the picture ! The And her beautiful brow becomes flat and thin,

expression how perfect! Mr Tupper And sulphurous flashes blear and singe does not know it was a dream of love That sweetest of eyes with its delicate in fear; and interpreting it literally, fringe,

transforms Geraldine into a “bright Till, all its loveliness blasted and dead, green snake !" and such a snake! The eye of a snake_blinks deep in her The “ dragon-maid" coils herself head;

round the “old oak stump,” splitting For raven locks flowing loose and long it to the heart, which, it seems, is Bristles a red name, stiff and strong, hollow and black-and after a while And sea-green scales are beginning to speck

“ The hour is fled, the spell hath sped; Her shrunken breasts, and lengthening And heavily dropping down as dead, neck :

All in her own beauty drest, The white round arms arc sunk in'her Brightest, softest, lovliest, sides,

Fair faint Geraldine lies on the ground, As when in chrysalis canoe

Moaning sadly;

And forth from the oak
A may-fly down the river glides,
Struggling for life and liberty too,-

In a whirl of thick smoke
Her body convulsively twists and twirls,

Grinning gladly, This way and that it bows and curls, Leaps with a hideous howl at a bound And now her soft limbs melt into one A squat black dwarf of visage grim, Strangely and horribly tapering down

With crutches beside each twisted limb Till on the burnt grass dimly is seen

Half hidden in many a flume-coloured rag, A serpent monster, scaly and green,

It is Kyxa the Hag !" Horror!-can this be Geraldine ?”

Ryxa the hag is the Witch's mother You remember the dream of Bracy by whom the deponent saith notthe Bard in Christabel—told by him and undertakes to clothe her with all self to Sir Leoline ?

beauty-in the shape of Geraldine

that she may win the love of the Lady In my sleep I saw that dovo,

Christabel's bethrothed knight, and enThat gentle bird, whom thou dost love, And calls’t by thy own daughter's name

joy his embraces only that Sir Leoline! I saw the same

“ Still thy boson and half thy side Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan Must shrivel and sink at eventide, Among the green herbs in the forest alone And still, as every Sabbath breaka, Which when I saw and when I heard, Thy large dark eyes must blink as a I wondered what might ail the bird ;

snake's.” For nothing near it I could see, Save the grass and green herbs under

She tells her, too, to beware of the neath the old Tree.

hymning of the Holy Bard And in my dream methought I went For that the power of hymn and harp To search out what might there be Thinc innermost being shall wither and found;

warp. And what the swcet bird's trouble meant And the same hour they touch thinc cars, That thus lay fluttering on the ground. A serpent thou art for a thousand years.” I went and heard and could descry No cause for her distresssul cry ;

Such is Canto Third, and it exBut yet for her dear Lady's sako plains - as we understand it—what I stooped, methought, the dove to take, occurred immediately before the meetWhen lo! I saw a bright green snake ing of Christabel and the Witch beCoiled arjund its wing and neck, neath the oak, as described in the




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