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exist between phenomena, which appear We confess that we are by no means together or in succession : the latter are satisfied with the theory that asserts more strictly called cause and effect. that our idea of the relation of cause Thus, for example, a greater application and effect is nothing more than one of of forco, of weight, of fire, or of light, constant and invariable sequence. From uniformly causes a greater motion, or observing this, the mind may infer pressure, or heat, or illumination, increas- causation ; but it does not confound ing according to ascertained laws in each; the two ideas, which are essentially and this with such accurate certainty, distinct. Let us suppose two perfectly that such effects can be increased at plea- unparalleled phenomena in nature to sure, and in exact conformity with the be found constantly to appear, the one nicest calculations. This certainty and uniformity of variation distinguishes the following the other, might it not be

possible for a

cause to be relation of cause and effect from mere sequence, which, by a strange infatuation assigned, and no relation be supposed

to exist between the two effects, of oversight, has been confounded with it by Hume. Considered in this view, it although the one never should appear

without the other ? But we are as is at the same time, and by the same principle, the foundation of all art and of little satisfied with Mr. Wills' theory all right reasoning. In fact, the calcula- of constant and coordinate variation. tion which regulates the construction of Does Mr. Wills mean to assert that a watch with its due regulation of various the relation cannot subsist where the mechanic forces or of a steam-engine, things admit of no degrees, and where, with its aided applications of chemical consequently, we should suppose there knowledge, is an instance of both. The can be no variations ? But the entire certain effects from the nice measurement language of the paragraphs that treat of causes, and the nice and subtle pro- of this subject is obscure; and, if we cesses of reasoning which lead to, and may judge from some hints of a future are verified by them, most fully and ade- essay upon the question, the theory is, quately establish the required connexions. perhaps, one which he had but lately And the more thoroughly, since you must formed, and which had not rested long observe that these are not casual instances enough in his mind to be corrected of consequence, but of its uniform varia- and digested into shape. tion regulated by the will, and in unerring Still less are we satisfied with his conformity with the minutest and most attempted application of his general intricate reasoning. « This constant relation between trains truth of the results of reasoning ; if

principle to the establishment of the of reasoning and these variations, is all that

we understand him right, the relation we are here concerned with. It estab- of coexistence between causation and lishes that relation which subsists between right reasoning is proved by the causation and right reasoning, as applied experiments that verify the results to facts. Observation, experiment, and of mechanical or scientific calculathe conscious power of acting at will, are tion. Not to mention that both causathus the data upon which the theory of tion and right reasoning are probability rests.”

lations themselves, we apprehend To the whole of this paragraph we that the mind as naturally and as take objection. From the paragraph confidently reposes in the calculations immediately preceding, we find that he of its own reason as in the evidence of does not regard every relation of ex the senses, which must testify to the istence as one of cause and effect. result of the experiments which Mr. Here we find that all relations of coex Wills requires to support them. If istence are indicated by a uniform and the philosopher rejoices when the recoordinate variation; and even with sults of his deductions are verified by this limitation he will not admit the re- experiment, it is not because he doubts lation of the phenomena which appear the truth of the calculating process, together to be strictly that of cause but because he distrusts his own corand effect. Thus to constitute this rectness in its application. relation, it is necessary that there It is not our intention, however, to should be a uniform and constant attempt any discussion of these abstruse variation, and, besides, a sequence in and perplexing points-an enquiry into point of time.

which would lead us into metaphysical

re

speculations, the barren inutility of must long since have perceived we which would be strangely contrasted entertain. Many years have passed with the deep and practical utility of since a work was issued from the press the investigations through which Mr. equally calculated to serve the cause Wills himself has been our guide. It of Christianity, and to set the honest, would be like turning from the reaping but self-deceiving sceptic upon the of the harvest to pursue the butterfly. right path towards conducting the most Of the general merits of the volume it momentous enquiry upon which the is unnecessary for us now to reiterate human intellect can be engaged. the bigh opinion which our readers

SYLVÆ.NO. III.

THE REVERIES OF A WALK AT NIGHTFALL.

I will go forth among the woods, and learn,
That sadness which is happier than joy.
Bless thee, eve's latest hour ! thou holy time
When Fancy wears the truth of Memory,
Or Memory robed in radiance not her own,
Grows one with Fancy, and embathes the soul
In spirit-soothing dreams of Paradise.
Young Night her hymn of silence hath begun,
And Nature feels the deep INAUDIBLE strain
Thrill her eternal heart. "Oh, whisper not-
Let thought be voiceless, lest the spell be broken!
-Storms die away, as mountain torrents sink
Entombed amid their grave serene, the depth
Of lonely lakes--oceans without a tide ;
Or as a murmuring infant slowly hushed
From sorrow into sleep upon the bosom
Of that calm worshipper, its mother! All
Pales in the misty melancholy beam
Of Her, the Planet of the Dreamer's heart,
Whose solemn vision in all time hath been
Embodied Poesie! All yearns for rest,
Save the unsleeping Demon of the mind,
Or its more placid Genius; both arouse
The spirit of their strength in Solitude.

One happy hour, my soul! one happy hour!
A living rose amid the faded wreath
Of evil days that time hath garlanded.
One hour for thought or tears ! Ye gloomy scenes,
Dim, silent, desolate, in which I move,
Ye stay my Spirit's wandering. There is

power
Breathed from the sullen glory of the Night
To calm and yet exalt-even as an Eagle
Soars on the upper air ; ye cannot see
The stirring of his wings, and yet he soars !
Thus silently, as though 'twere motionless,
The soul of man floats in a rapture up,
Up to the beaming heavens on nights like these.
Alive—ay, thrillingly alive! it feels
The stars enlarging as it bounds aloft ;
It hears the pæan of the choir that peal
Their thunderous music round the Eternal's throne ;

It hovers on those regions uncreate
Which only Thought can reach, or God inform-
The infinite Nothing of unpeopled Space
That bounds the Living Universe, and hurls
Its fiery glance upon the Void, to make
It pregnant with new worlds !

This very Eve,
An hour since, did I stand in musing mood,
Where amid rugged wastes abruptly rose
A green peak cinctured with a belt of pines ;
And wearied of the turbulence of thought,
The rapid chase of changeful imagery,
My whole soul-as I watched the sinking orbe
Settled in fullest depth of rapt repose.
A scene how beautiful! Small, shadowy clouds,
Purpureal isles in the transparent air,
Hung in the western heaven ; and to my thought
That glowing heaven seemed but a brighter Sea-
Some vast and glittering surface of still waters
Whose nearer shore lay hidden from the gaze,
Whose farther, and the thousand isles between,
Stretched beyond sight and met the stooping sky;
As if our world's horizon were prolonged
Into the regions of the Air, and Heaven
Had taken the landscape up where Earth had left it!
Ye! glorious is the show when clouds unfold
Their regal pall above the buried sun ;
Yet dearer to my soul this dying light,
Its earthly memories, its celestial hopes,
Its grief consoled, joy purifed,—the heart
Serenely proud of its own weakness made
Strength by the might of Hope!

Sweet Earth! I loved thee
Ever, and Man! I learn to love thee now;
Losing the fretful littleness of Life
In the o'erwhelming sense of Him who gave it.
For in such hours God walks abroad.

Thou world!
How beautiful beneath the glimmering gaze
Of the innumerous stars, the wandering moon,
Rest vales, and fields, and hamlets. A dim mist,
As 'twere the bridal veil of thee, fair Earth,
Wedded to Heaven to-night,-is softly thrown
Over thy dewy bosom. Trees afar
Melt into clouds,-an holiness is here,
And all the silence of a Temple. Pause,
My Spirit, pause in love, and worship God !

Night in the Forest! I have rushed amid
Darkness, and down the cchoing river's side,
River to me of unforgotten dreams !
From the bleak rock there bursts a laughing child,
A sparkling infant babbling his bright way
Along in waves of interwoven light.
The sun rests gladly on him, and the stars
Lengthened to threads of tremulous lustre lie
Traced on his heaving breast. Oh, richly pure,

Fragrant with blended breath of flowers, the air
That floats at nightfall round the turfen slopes
That prison that lone river. I have heard
Tones—yet I know not whence-from the high clouds
Or central earth-meet on that river's brim,
And there embrace in harmony so sweet,
So wildly piercing, that I've listened lost,
And dreamed myself to heaven. There is a Fane
By nature scooped from out the shagged rocks,
(The Fane of muttering Gnomes) where oft at night
I've lain in fearful bliss, and seen-alone-
Wierd shadows veil the portal of the cave,
And felt before me stand a nameless terror,
The Ghost of mine own fears, a Silent Presence,
A something more than man, and less than God!
Aerial mediators circle us,
There is no solitude for man!

Once more,
All hail, thou glorious darkness, trembling transport,
All the dread ecstacies of horror hail!
These trees are urged not by a breeze, but seem
Huge spectres in the unearthly light that wins
Its course to this most savage scene—obscure
Even in the fullest glow of day! And now
The creatures of the brain are peopling all
With ghastliness, and phantasms from the grave :
And every bough that some uncertain breath
Of murmuring air—the west-wind's sigh-may move,
Glared on by chequered gleams, doth body forth
A demon with a giant frame, to scare
The life-blood from the heart! But this is past,
For lo! a silent place of light, where oaks
Unlink their arms to give the unshadowed moon
A blessed leave to kiss the mossy knolls
Of their old roots fantastic. Vernal flowers,
Such as in woodlands grow, are here, and make
This Dryad-haunt an Eden of sweet scents :-
Flowers moulded with a dædal hand, and smiling
Starlike upon the earth, the sinless types
Of innocence like childhood's fresh from heaven !
Hark! one seducing Bird whose wavering note
Floats like a spirit-tone from the green bushes,
Startlingly sweet~the very voice of silence.
One bird alone, lost in its home of leaves,
Its citadel of verdure and still heard
(Vocal while all the voiceless woodland dreams)
Trilling a song-ah, sure in that last song
Expired the music left from paradise,
For ever more unheard !

I too will sing
To this soft symphony of mingling waves,
And woo the genius of calm thoughts to come;
Wreathing a passing fancy into verse,
My muse the pale-eyed night-queen!
A lonely child sate by a stream,

Clear, shadowless, and still;
He looked upon the skies above,

He looked upon the rill;

'Twas midnight, and the stars of heaven

Revealed in glory stood,
And every star he watched on high

Was mirrored in the flood.

“ How pleasant,” dreamed the raptured boy,

“ How pleasant 'twere to rove
Through all those fields of light with her

The sister of my love!
How blest our starry hours would glide

In joys unknown to earth;
Oh, would that Heaven had made those skies

The country of my birth !”
His sad gaze drooped_he saw the stream-

Another heaven was there,
The same blue vault that beamed aloft,

The stars, the sky, the air.
“I cannot dart to heaven," he cried,

“ Nor wing on high my flight;
But I can rush beneath these waves

And meet a heaven as bright!"
He plunged, the gorgeous dream was o'er,

The mimic stars were fed,
The cruel stream that lured the child

Swept o'er his sinless head!
Oh thus, oh thus this false cold world

Appears an beaven to youth,
Till crushed beneath its treacherous tide,

And martyred into Truth !
But Night's expanse of lustrous darkness grows
Deeper and brighter in its solemn course
On to the spirit-haunted Hour. 'Tis time
To furl the sails of Thought, to bid the soul
Pause, and congeal into reality !

W. A. B.

HIBERNIAN NIGHTS' ENTERTAINMENTS-ELEVENTH NIGHT.

The next night was rainy and tempes “For one night be might,” replied tuous. The captives, listening to the Henry ; " but the first glimpse of sunwind without, as it whistled dismally shine through the bars of his window through the embrasures and battle in the morning, would make him rue ments of the surrounding walls, gather- his bargain speedily. Oh, Heaven! it ed round their hearth, awaiting the is enough to set one crazy to see the arrival of their keepers with more tops of the Dublin mountains basking than usual resignation. " It is some. in the sun of a clear day, seeing just thing to have a roof over one's head enough of them to know that there on such a night as this, even though are running streams there and fresh the door be bolted on the wrong side," banks of heather; and then to think said Henry.

that you are here built up in stone and “ We would not be long without lime, like a lintel or a doorpost in the better shelter if the bolts were drawn," wall I have been dreaming of said Irt; “yet many a poor wretch the green fields every night for the tonight would be glad to change places last week.” with us, for the sake even of such dry “And I dreamt last night that the quarters."

Deputy had put us into a dungeon ten

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