How is it thou dost not shudder at my sight? FAUSTUS. Come, come !-the darkness of the night is fading. MARGARET. My mother, I have murdered her-my child Give me thine hand-it is not then a dream; Thine own dear hand. Oh, God! his hand is moistWipe, wipe it off! methought it felt like blood! What hast thou done? Ah, sheath thy bloody sword; Ah, hide it from me. FAUSTUS. Think not of the past; That which is done, is done. Come, this delay Is death to me! No; MARGARET. thou must yet remain, Place me; and on my right breast lay my child; Oh, if thou feelest that 'tis I, come, come. Day! yes, 'tis day, the last, the judgment-day; The square and street are thronged with crushing thousands; The bell hath sounded; the death wand is broken; They bind and blindfold me, and force me on; On to the scaffold they have hurried me ; Down in the chair of blood they fasten me : And now through every neck of all that multitude FAUSTUS. Oh, that I never had been born! MEPHISTOPHELES (appears at the door.) Away, or you are lost; This trembling, and delay, and idle chattering, MARGARET. What shape is that which rises from the earth? 'Tis he, 'tis he, oh, send him from this place ; What wants he here? Oh, what can bring him here? Why does he tread on consecrated ground? Large as have been our extracts from this truly original poem, the reader who confines himself to them can have but little idea of its power and beauty as a whole. Considered strictly as a dramatic composition, its great merit consists in the characters of Mephistopheles and Margaret. That of the former is a masterpiece. Pure intellect, exerted in ceaseless activity and in one steady direction, by the force of habit, without motive, without emotion, without gratification, would, in the first instance, appear the most unmanageable of all personifications; it would seem impossible to prevent it from becoming a cold, unreal, and uninteresting abstraction, or impossible to preserve it amid the working of passions and the bustle of real life in unimpassioned and unmoved consistency-yet the triumph of the poet is here complete. No touch of human feeling, no stirring of desire, no enjoyment of gratified affec tion or appetite ever mingles with the constant operation of the Dæmon's deep and unclouded wit; every superstitious fancy, every mysterious feeling, every fearful recollection of the reader's own breast, all the externals connected with the legendary fiend, are set at work by the poet to give full and distinct personality to this creature of his fancy; but through all the apparently wild and wayward extravagancies of his action, the unearthly consistency of the Dæmon's character is observed without a break. Margaret and Martha were probably suggested to the author by Juliet and her Nurse. We find in Margaret the same girlish simplicity as in Juliet, modified only by the differences of her country and condition, the same love at first sight, the same ready confession of her passion, and when her affections are engaged, the same "Bounty as boundless as the sea, but in the terrific sequel of her career of guilt and shame, the bard has exbibited the character suggested to him under circumstances unparalleled in the original—has vindicated his claim to it, and fairly made it his own. Considered in each scene by itself, Faustus is admirably drawn. Each scene is an exhibition of human nature in some particular posture, but that harmony is failed of, which makes these the postures of the same individual mind, and fixes them to one person. Faustus wants personality, and the reader feels little interest in the nominal hero of To judge, the piece throughout. Give me, oh! give me back the days And felt, as they now feel, each coming hour New consciousness of power. Oh happy, happy time, above all praise! Then thoughts on thoughts and crowding fancies sprung, Unintermitted streams from fountains ever flowing;- In every field, for me Its thousand flowers were blowing! A veil through which I did not see, A thin veil o'er the world was thrown In every bud a mystery; Magic in every thing unknown : The fields, the grove, the air was haunted, Yes! give me give me back the days of youth, Whether Mr. Anster may not have some right to complain that we have considered this work rather as an original poem than as a translation we cannot pretend to determine. On himself, after all, the guilt, if there be any, mainly rests. We have read the poem with an unbroken and unoffended interest which we should have thought it impossible for a translation to create and sustain, and even still find it hard to recur to it with any permanent recollection that it is one. This, we consider—and we think that most readers will agree with us-constitutes its greatest excellence. The poet whose mind moves so freely and so truly through the whole train of another's operations as never reader's possessing a knowledge of the original language which would enable him to judge of Mr. Anster's merit as a critically faithful translator, there is an internal evidence of the general fidelity of a translation, arising from the consistency of its parts, which all can appreciate, and which this work possesses in the highest degree. Germany owes a deep debt of gratitude to Mr. Anster for being the first who, after years of incredulity, has in these countries fully justified her enthusiastic admiration of her mighty bard. As Irishmen we feel justly proud that this high triumph has been achieved by our countryman. The man who, under any circumstances, gives a new impulse to the literature of his country, has a strong claim on her gratitude; but this claim is greatly enhanced when, as in Mr. Anster's case, he has made the attempt amid the absorbing interest of political excitement and the conflict of angry and tumultuous factions. His work must, we confidently expect, as assume a permanent station in the highest rank of English poetry. Under these circumstances, and with these feelings, we cannot bring ourselves to notice such lesser imperfections must be found in any of man's labours; and we take our leave of Mr. Anster with the sincerest admiration of his genius, and congratulation of this triumphant display of it. The other translations in the volume are executed with the same spirit and vigor as the larger one, on which we have dwelt so long, and present the same indications of extraordinary original power in the translator. În the Notes the reader will find much rare and interesting information. The Preface is written with an elegance that does honour to the author's taste, and a kindliness towards his brother labourers which does honour to his feelings, and the Dedication associates with his own a name dear to every scholar, every man of worth or genius, and every Christian in this country. CORPORATION REFORM. IN February last, on the meeting of parliament, the House of Commons, at the suggestion of Lord Morpeth, inserted a clause in their address to the King, in which they expressed their regret that the progress of many useful reforms had been interrupted by the dissolution of the preceding parliament. To those who remembered that but a little time before that dissolution, the Whig Lord Chancellor had declared that if the session of 1834 had effected little, the session of 1835 would effect less, this proceeding of the House of Commons appeared strange and unaccountable. It was, however, adopted upon the distinct and emphatic assurance of Lord John Russell, that, at the time when the Melbourne cabinet was broken up, a variety of measures of reform were actually in the course of preparation, when, unhappily, the sudden dismissal of the industrious and honest statesmen who composed the Melbourne Cabinet had deprived the country of the promulgation of those marvellous measures that were to be enduring monuments of the wisdom and the patriotism of their authors. Those assertions of Lord John Russell were certainly strangely at variance with the no less positive declarations of Lord Brougham. The House of Commons, however, chose rather to believe the word of the ex-minister; and, on the assurance of that word, they committed themselves to the truth of his statements. This was probably all that Lord John desired— the statement served the party purpose for which it was designed--it furnished the pretext for an unmeaning amendment to the address to the King, and gave honourable members an opportunity of shewing their factious opposition to ministers whom they had determined to find guilty, but against whom the only difficulty was to find a charge. The noble lord perhaps prided himself on the ingenuity of his device. It was something to have framed an excuse for faction--to have invented a story that served as a pretext for the base manœuvres of party. Satisfied |