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interview, a conversation passes be- 1. And dost thou undertake a distant tween him and them, full of affection
voyage ? and tenderness on the one side, and
A. Thou too shalt voyage to an unknown suppressed anguish and perplexity on
land. the other.
1. Oh! Father, would that I might go I. Mother, be not offended, if I run
with thee. To cast me on the bosom of my father.
A. Yes, thou shalt go to a far distant C. My venerable lord, my king, my
And thou shalt owe thy journeying to me. We come obedient to thy royal will.
I. Shall I sail with my mother or alone ? 1. Let me shed tears of joy upon thy
A. Alone, without thy father or thy neck;
mother. 'Tis long since I beheld thee; how I love
1. Tell me to what far country thou Again to gaze in fondness on thy face :
dost send me ? Say thou dost love me.
A. These maidens must not know thy I A. Yes, I do love thee;
destiny. Thou art the best and kindest of my chil
1. Oh! mayst thou be victorious in the dren.
wars ; I. Oh! might I look for ever on thee And soon return to us from Phrygia. thus.
A. I first have here to do a sacrifice. A. One sentiment of joy unites our
1. In that the priests will guide thee. hearts.
A. Thou shalt know, 1. It was too kind in thee to bring me for thou shalt stand beside the holy fount. hither.
How happy art thou in thy ignorance ! A. I do not know if it were kind or not.
Give me one sad embrace and thy right 1. What aileth thee ? nay, look upon me, For thou shalt be long absent from thy
hand, father, As thou wert glad indeed to see me here.
father. A. A king and general has many cares. 1. Think not of cares, but give thyself
Iphigenia quits the stage, and Aga
memnon endeavours to persuade ClyA. I think of thee alone, of no one else.
temnestra to return to Argos, and that 1. Let a sweet smile of love dispel the he himself would superintend the cegloom
lebration of the marriage of his daughThat hangs upon thy forehead.
ter with Achilles; and after an alterA. I do joy
cation upon the subject, the scene To see my child.
În the next, Clytemnestra 1. Yet tears flow from thine eyes. by accident meets Achilles, and saA. Because a cruel separation waits us. lutes him as her future son-in-law, 1. I understand thee not, my dearest His ignorance of her meaning leads father.
her to suspect that guile had been 4. ( Aside ) I understand thee, and I pity
her. The aged serthee. 1. I would indulge in merriment to
vant, from whom Menelaus had taken
the letter with which he was entrustplease thee. A. (Aside) Alas, I would be silent if I ed to her, enters and reveals the incould.
tended sacrifice of her daughter. She (Aloud) I thank thee for thy kindness to implores the aid of Achilles, who un
dertakes her defence. In the follow1. Oh ! father, stay at home and blessing scene, which is the most tender thy children.
and interesting in the play, ClytemA.. Fondly I would, and grieve because
nestra extorts from Agamemnon a I cannot.
confession of the horrid secret, and 1. Nay, quit the battle spear, and think joins her supplications to those of On Menelaus' wrongs.
Iphigenia, who leads by the hand
her infant brother Orestes, that he A. Others must fall Beneath the load of woes that overwhelm would spare his daughter's life.
Cly. Say, shouldst thou lead thy army 1. Tedious has been thy sojourning at
to the field, Aulis.
And leave me in the solitary palace, A. And still the adverse winds detain How think'st thou I shall feel when I beus here.
hold 1. Where do they say, thy foes the Phry. The chambers of my daughter desolate; gians dwell
And all the haunts she lov'd the most der A. Oh! would that Priam's son had
serted ? not dwelt there.
When I in solitude and bitter tears,
Shall weep my fair, my lov'd Iphigenia. Wilt thou not pity him and spare my life! My child, thy father is thy murderer ; Father, in mercy, pity me, and spare me ; And stains his impious hands in thy pure Oh! kill me not, for it is sweet to live, blood.
And to behold the glorious light of heaven, Oh! by the Gods, compel me not to hate thee;
Agamemnon is overwhelmed with Thou can’st not sacrifice the child who grief, but answers, that the enraged loves thee
army demanded her life, and that it As tenderly as ever daughter loved ! was impossible for him to save her ; Couldst thou assisting at the sacrifice and Achilles informs them, that in an Of thy first born, pray that the Gods would attempt to sooth the angry passions of grant thee
the soldiers, he had nearly lost his Aught that is good ? Could I at thy de- life. On hearing this, Iphigenia conparture
sents to die for her country. The saPrefer to them my humble supplication, crifice is thus described to ClytemnesThat they would give thee health and vic
tra by a messenger: tory, And bring thee back in safety to thy coun- “ M. When Agamemnon saw his love
ly daughter Nay! They will be avenged of parricide. Advancing to the altar of Diana, An expedition impiously begun
He turned his head aside and veil'd his eyes Ends in disaster. How couldst thou return And wept. Near him Iphigenia stood To Argos and thy children ? would they And cried, father, I come a willing victim, greet thee
To lay my body on Diana's altar With looks of kind affection, if they knew An offering for Argos and for Greece. That thou badst been their sister's murderer? Oh! ye assembled armies of my country, I. Oh! father, had I but the voice of Go forth to glory and to victory. Orpheus,
Let no one hold me, for I shall have The music that might animate the rocks
strength To follow me; had I the eloquence To stretch my neck undaunted to the knife Whose charm might win my hearers to my Of sacrifice, and shrink not from the will,
stroke." On that should I rely; but now my tears Must plead for me, for they are ali i have.
He further relates, that at the moI am a suppliant at my father's knees. ment the priest had struck the fatal Thou wouldst not kill me, I am very young, stroke, while the sound was still in And it is sweet to look upon the light, the ears of the multitude, Iphigenia And the grave is a cold and dreary place. vanished from their sight, and was I was the
first who poured into thy ear seen no more, and a hind was found The music of a father's name, the first
panting on the ground in her place. To whom with bounding heart thou saidst,
My child !
REMAINS OF A NON-DESCRIPT ANI,
MAL FOUND IN AYRSHIRE. daughter,
MR EDITOR, Oh! may I see in thee the blooming bride
About the 1st of January in the Of a great prince worthy of thee and me, And I would answer while I did embrace ring the freestone quarry of Wood
present year, there was found, in tirthee, How happy shall I be to tand thy age,
hill, in the parish of Kilmaurs, the And to repay thee all thy tenderness.
remains of a very huge animal 17} These words are graven on my memory,
feet below the surface, incumbent on But thou forgettest them, and thou wouldst a thin stratum of gravel mixed with kill me.
sea shells, immediately beneath a very Oh! look on me, and give me one em- adhesive dark clay. The whole, howbrace,
ever, was in such a state of decay as That with me I may bear the sweet me- to fall in pieces in handling, except morial
one of the tusks, and some small bones To solace me at death, if I must die.
similar in shape and size to the ribs My brother, young companion of my sor- of a horse, but none entire above eight
inches in length. There were two Let thy bright tears plead for me with my tusks
lying contiguous to each other, father, For he may hear thee and may spare thy them fell into six or eight pieces in
but pointing different ways. One of sister. llow eloquent his silent supplication !
the lifting, but the other was taken
PLAN FOR SUPPLYING EDINBURGH
up nearly whole, and remains still in a hard state. It is about 40 inches
WITH WATER. long, and nearly 12 inches in girth at an average, at one end being 14 inches, A REPORT has been presented to the and at the other about 10. In con- Town-Council by a special committee sistency, it is similar to the tusk of an appointed to consider the mode of proelephant, but a little darker in colour. curing to the city an additional supply It is, however, much more curved, as of water. We can state, on good it forms a very correct arc of 90 de- authority, the following to be a correct grees, of which the radius is about 24 outline. The expence required caninches. It weighs 204 lbs. avoirdu- not be estimated at less than L.80,000. pois, and may thus, from the dimen- Though, in the present state of the sions, be calculated to have about money market, a loan to this amount 1.39 of specific gravity. Part of it, might be effected without difficulty, being in a softish state at the thicker yet, under a change of circumstances, it end, was cut off with a saw, and in- might give rise to serious inconveternally it exhibited a regular series niences. It is therefore recommendof concentric circles.
a joint stock company The size or shape of this animal should be formed, the members of cannot be well guessed at, for, except which would subscribe the money the tusk, there was nothing so entire in the hope of profit. This plan as to indicate proportion. What ap- would put an end to all complaints as peared in the shape of fragments of to the management of the water-conribs seened, indeed, to bear no pro- cerns, as it would place them in the portion to the tusk-unless from being hands of the subscribers, who would found scattered about as far backwards probably be respectable citizens of Eas 25 feet from it, they may lead to a dinburgh ; while, at the same time, the conjecture, that the animal must have Town-Council, from its interest in been at least 25 feet in length. the capital stock, would be entitled to
At first it was supposed, from the have several of its members in the largeness of the tusk, that it was the Board of direction. The only objecskeleton of an elephant. Every other tion seems to be the additional tax circumstance, however, is against this which must thus be imposed on the conclusion. The greater curvature of inhabitants. The sum now required, the tusk is against it; so is its soli- added to that formerly expended, dity; the tusk of an elephant being could not be estimated at less than hollow. Neither were there any re- L. 130,000, while the water-duty, er mains of teeth. These, it is known, ven when equalized, would not exceed are still more imperishable than tusks. L. 4500: thus a considerable additional Neither any remains of large leg rate would be necessary to produce bones. Nothing larger than the rib even 5 per cent., while it could not of a horse and these so entire as to be expected that subscribers to a joint
la smell most fætidly when held to the stock company would be satisfied with fire-they even took flame like a can- less than 74 per cent. It is conceived, dle. Every thing rather indicates the however, that there can be no rearemains of a sea animal. In the mu- sonable objection to some addition. seum at Glasgow there is a tusk to Those who derive their supply be seen remarkably similar, differing from the public wells, including in no circumstance, but only that it all the lower classes and those imis a sinall degree larger. They call it mediately above them, will not be afthe tusk of a Mamothrather an ima- fected by the change. As for the ginary animal, as none alive have been higher and middling classes, if the seen in the present age of the world, shares were made small, suppose L. 2 and none entire ever discovered. The or L.25, each individual, by taking place where this was found is about four one, might obtain such a profit as would miles in a straight line from the sea, compensate for the loss he sustained and through a country of a very irre- by the additional amount of water-dugular uphill and downhill surface, ty. with a soil that shews no indication This report has been approved of by of having been formed by the retiring the Council, and directions given for of sea waters.
G. R. acting upon the plan proposed. October 1, 1817.
REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.
Sibylline Leaves, a Collection of Poems. compositions of this author are strik
By S. T. COLERIDGE, Esq. 8vo. ingly and most advantageously distinpp. 303. Fenner, London, 1817. guished from those of all the rest.
He displays, it is true, on many ocEVERY reader of modern poetry is casions, the same sickly sentimentaliacquainted of course with “the Ancient ty,—the same perverted disposition to Mariner” of this author. It is one invest trifling subjects with an air and of those compositions, indeed, which expression of great importance and incannot be perused without a more than terest,—to treat subjects of real granordinary excitation of fancy at the deur in a manner unsuited to their time ; and which, when once read, native majesty of character, -and to can never afterwards be entirely for employ, occasionally, expressions which gotten. What we mean, however, are merely vulgar or ridiculous, inmore particularly to say at present, is, stead of that direct and simple diction that this production has always ap- which is the most natural language of peared to us in the light of a very intense feeling. Along with these pegood caricature of the genius of its culiarities, however, it cannot be deauthor. It displays, fact, all the nied, that there are other qualities of strength and all the weakness,mall Mr Coleridge's poetry which entitle the extravagancies and eccentricities, it to a place among the finest produce -all the bold features, and peculiar tions of modern times. There is, in grimace, if we may so express our particular, a wildness of narrative, and selves, of his intellectual physiognomy, a picturesque grouping of qualities and -and in forming an opinion respect objects, which are in fine contrast to ing the talents which he possesses, the tameness and placidity of ordinary this composition may serve the very poetry ;-a freshness of colouring and same purpose which an overcharged a delicacy of shading, which mark the drawing of a countenance could an- hand of a great master. Amidst some swer to one who would form to him- obscurity and occasional failures, there self some general idea of the kind of are also every where to be discovered features by which an individual was those incidental touches of true grace distinguished. In order to adapt such which indicate the native riches and a representation to the reality of the power of the artist ; and along with case, we must of course soften its pro- all these qualities, there is a fine aminences, and correct its extrava- daptation, frequently, of the style and gancies; we must raise some parts and manner of our older masters to the depress others; and while we retain improved design of modern times, the general likeness and grouping of which sheds a venerable air over the the individual features which com- whole composition, and seems to empose the countenance, we must re- balm it with all the flowers and oduce the whole to that medium cha- dours of the “ olden time." These racter, from which, amidst the in- better qualities, it ought also to be refinite varieties that occur, it is the collected, are the more prevailing chararest of all things to meet with any racteristics of our author's manner, great deviation.
and though there are occasional pasMr Coleridge, we understand, has sages, and even entire pieces, in this sometimes expressed an unwillingness, collection, which none but a poet of in so far as the character of his poetry the Lake school could have written, is concerned, to be classed with the and which, without any intimation of other members of what has been cal- the name of the author, would at led the Lake School ; and it is impos- once, in the opinion of any ordinary sible, we think, for any candid mind judge, determine his place of residence not to perceive, that, as in some re- and habits of fellowship, there is no spects the individuals of that associa- doubt that there is a still greater tion differ essentially from each other, number of passages which remind us there are also respects in which the of an era of far better things.
Nothing, we apprehend, is more dif- ideal combinations. Every person, howa ficult than to characterize correctly ever, may form to himself some analothe genius of an author whose pro- gical representation of this attribute of ductions possess so many opposite mind, who can contrast, in the imaginaqualities, and whose excellencies and tion of external nature, the scenery of a extravagancies are so curiously blend- rugged and finely wooded landscape, ed; especially as the work in which with the drowsy stillness of a chamthese combinations occur is not one paign country, of which riches and uniform picture of any landscape in uniformity are the prevailing characnature, or one unbroken narrative of teristics, --or the progress of a torrent some moral tale; not a regular and amidst rocks and forests, with the didactic poem, nor even a series of course of a stream which flows full poems, marked by one prevailing cha- and unbroken through the placid racter, and intended for the production abundance of a cultivated region,of one common effect ; but a great as- or the music of the winds as it is semblage of unconnected pieces, which modulated and aided in its progress differ in subject, in character, and in through a landscape of woods and of style,-sibylline leaves, which have mountains, with those harmonious long been tossed by all the winds of adaptations of kindred sounds which heaven, and are now collected into one science and taste are capable of formprecious fasciculus,—some inscribed ing. We cannot pretend, however, with interesting lessons of domestic to give instances of this quality, which love and family affection,-some dedi- is, indeed, the characteristic attribute cated to enthusiastic celebration of the of our author's genius, and which, of grand or the beautiful in natural sce- course, displays itself in some degree nery,--not a few devoted to inspired in all his productions ;-we must, wailings over the fates and hopes of therefore, content ourselves at present national enterprise, and a very con- with referring such of our readers as siderable number merely employed by think they should, above all things, the poet, for the purpose of being in- be delighted with a genius of this or scribed, as might suit his humour, der, to the actual productions of the with the incoherent ravings of his in- author before us, as the greatest masdolence or gaiety. Taking them alto- ter in this style with whom we are gether, however, we shall endeavour, acquainted ; and, in the meantime, we though with a very general and rapid shall proceed to notice some other glance, to mark the prevailing quali- qualities of his works which can more ties of the group, and to enable our readily be illustrated by quotations readers also, by the specimens we and references. shall select, to form for themselves an Mr Coleridge, like Mr Southey, estimate of the merits of our author, possesses, in no ordinary perfection, independent of any judgment we may the power of presenting to the imagihappen to express.
nation of his readers a correct idea of We have already binted, that the natural scenery. There is a remarkprevailing characteristic of the com- able difference, however, as it appears positions of this author is a certain air to us, in the character assumed by of wildness and irregularity, which this faculty in the case of these two equally belongs to his narrations of writers. The delineations of Mr events, and to the pictures he has of- Southey are true to the reality, as if fered of the aspects of Nature. It his single object in description had would require, we believe, a greater been to represent every hue and vaexpenditure, both of time and of space, riation of the object before him ; his than we can at present afford, to say descriptions, accordingly, are admirexactly wherein this quality consists. ably adapted for affording subjects to We think, indeed, that an examina- a painter; and, indeed, we know not tion of its nature presents a subject of any author by whose writings so mavery interesting study to those who ny admirable facilities of this nature delight to speculate on the wonderful are afforded. His descriptions, at the varieties of human character, or to same time, are frequently destitute of mark, with the eye of philosophical that far higher character which they discernment, the predilections which might have assumed, if employed ondetermine the excursions of fancy ly as the ground-work for the prothroughout the unbounded range of duction of emotion. We do not see