I saw within were many a light, Then swiftly on my robe I threw, We went, but every coward hand We gain'd the Anti-Room at last, To guilt and cowardice are strangers; Inflamed the breast of youthful lover, Is equal to that hope I bear These midnight wonders to discover! Charles,-Your King leads you,-On with me:* The door I open'd:-in the field I trembled as my steps drew nigh. They gazed on books, but never stirr'd That seem to guard the sacred glooms, Save half-breathed prayers were heard around, The King bow'd low ;-Oh, mighty God! The Sages smote their books,-So Time And make his visions flit before us. They smote their books,-and what a change As when the grave drew back her portal? More sad than if it had been mortal, I shrank with horror from the sight, Ulrica, thou may'st well suppose But then aloud I cried, O God! let me thy mandate hear, No answer came:-'twas silence all, Which then my fervent speech awoke, Again I call'd:-but as before It's echoes swept the chamber o'er, But not one word of peace there came And more than mortal power united! "Father of Heaven! look down on me, Aid me to learn my destiny; And to my wand'ring senses shew 'Be calm, and mark what Heaven shall say; Not in thy regal hour and day, Shall this, which thou with mortal sight Not in thy time shall this be known, But when five Kings have fill'd the throne. The form of him,-in whose sad reign Withstood the Sovereign of his land, Shewn by that Sprite who seems beside The fallen regal seat to glide, Shall staunch the kingdom's bleeding breast, Rear up again her drooping crest, And gild her Fame, these griefs to quell, Brighter than 'twas before it fell! Yet ere around that woe-worn head A peaceful crown shall glory spread, Blood shall through Sweden pour like water; For such a tide of Death and slaughter Was ne'er within the land before, And after, never shall be more! The morn is nearest, when the cloud Of night hath spread her darkest shroud; For when those days have glided by That long shall live in memory, These sights have been by Heaven design'd To teach thee, ere thy life decays, As through the shades of winter night And, even now, I know not why, I wept that lost society: For it had given new feelings birth, And I could scarce descend to carth! What pass'd upon that night of dread; It still before mine eyes is set; And midnight hears my fervent prayer, Oh God! assist me to forget!"" K. NOTES. The King's Vision. The foregoing Poem is a metrical version of a part of the history of Charles XI. King of Sweden; and the vision which it relates was beheld by that Sovereign on the night of December 16th, 1676. by Queen Ulrica's side. Ulrica Eleonora, daughter of Frederick III. King of Denmark; she was married to Charles, on the 26th November, 1679, and died on March the 26th, 1693. She was the mother of the celebrated Charles XII. The sixth shall find that vision true. The line of Sovereigns here alluded to, is as follows. Charles XI. died on April 5th, 1697: Charles XII. reigned from 1697 to 1718: Frederick and Ulrica, reigned from 1718 to 1750: Adolphus Frederick, reigned from 1751 to 1770: and Gustavus III. reigned from 1771, till March 15th, 1792: when he was shot by Ankerstroem. He was succeeded by Gustavus IV. the sixth King, who being then only fourteen, was placed under the sole regency of his uncle Charles, the Duke of Suderomania, until he should reach his 18th year. These were the Young Spectre-King, and one of his Councillors, who was to restore the prosperity of the throne. On the 13th March 1809, after the dreadful afflictions of sword and pestilence had ravaged Sweden, the King was deposed, and the Crown assumed by the Regent, then Charles XIII. 'Tis written all I looked on there. A particular account of this Vision was drawn up and signed by the King and his attendants, immediately on their return from witnessing it. The original, in the hand-writing of Charles, is preserved sealed up; but it is opened and read on the accession of every Monarch, after which it is again sealed up. Beside the King's signature, there appear to it those of A. W. Bjelke, Councillor of State, and Chancellor of the Kingdom; Ch. Bjelke, Senator; Brahe, Senator; Áx. Oxenstiern, Councillor of State and Senator; and Peter Granslin, or Grumsten, Quarter Master in Chief of the Royal Guard, or, as some call him, Usher. The King's own relation has frequently been referred to in many traditions during the last century; and has been printed at length in "A Journal of Travels in Sweden, Russia, Poland, &c. during the Years 1813 and 1814." By the Rev. J. T. James, of Christ Church, Oxford, 1816, 4to. mentioned in the Quarterly Review, Vol. 15, 1816, p. 511-526; and also noticed in the New Monthly Magazine for September 1819, page 24. MY GODMOTHER'S LEGACY; OR, THE ART OF CONSOLING. SECTION II. PEOPLE IN THE COUNTRY. MODERN mathematicians, who gravely tell us their science is the sole and indispensable basis of all others, would be ill pleased if told that my Art of Consoling stands on principles as universal and necessary as their's. It has, as those learned gentlemen say, both it's Theory and it's Techny; and the four ages of human life may be tolerably well compared to the four great schools or stages of mathematic science. In childhood we learn matters only in the "Abstract;"-in youth, "distinct and general facts;" -in middle life, "the products ;"and in advanced age, "the continual fractions." And though professors of the Consoling Art cannot shew amongst them such great names as Cardan, Bombelli, Leibnitz, and Legrange, it is probable, that even these wise men and their predecessors, Thales and Pythagoras, owed their perseverance in study to the excellent Art of Consoling, as practised by some members of their families. The characters on which this art is practicable may be divided, like the matter recognized by mathematicians, into the fluid and the solid; and distinguished, as they say, by the same difference: that is, the particles of the solid have the power of resisting, and those of the fluid are governed by the moving forces round them. Thus the two great divisions of the spiritual and material world are characterised in the same manner. My first experiment, as I have shewn, was on the fluid character of a very gentle young woman; the next happened to be on the solid one of a substantial-headed country - gentleman, who found my moving force quite sufficient. People in the country are the finest subjects of our science; for as the spirits are apt to mount and flutter about there, it is very easy and kind to rub the gold dust and gaycoloured down off their butterflywings, lest they should be too much envied. If one has a farm, it is comforting to hear that nobody wonders at it's ill success; if one has none, people console us by saying we have nothing to do. If we open our doors to entertain all the neighbourhood, they console us for our trouble by laughing at it; if we see few or nobody, some goodnatured friend must give us comfort by hinting we don't know the worst. My way of consolation when I left a friendly set of country neighbours, was to send a civil farewellbillet to every house, taking care that each person, when he or she opened it, should find it addressed to the next door. Thus the Lady Glowrowrum of the village received a note of thanks written to Lady Bluemantle, with compliments for her witty anecdotes of her dear Lady G-, and Lady Bluemantle, vice-versa, read one meant for Lady Glowrowrum. My brother, fearing to offend any of his neighbours, invited every one to a splendid ball, not omitting his pastry-cook, his chandler, or his gardener. Every body looked magnificent, some very vastly astonished, others immeasurably dignified; but all were so well consoled by a most gorgeous supper, that they came three times again in one season to be shocked and comforted at his expense. Every body has heard of the quicksands and squalls which render the passage dangerous from the Isle of Man to Cork, but every body does not remember the Manxmen's notion, that a vessel is sure of shipwreck if she sails after a dumb man has crossed her deck, and marked her mast with chalk. My brother, Sir Phelim Quackenboss, had affairs at his estate near Liscarrol, and by way of consoling him for the trouble they threatened to give him, I chose to be his companion. But a dumb woman suddenly came on board our vessel, and made attempts to write upon the mast. My screams, and the superstition of the sailors, caused her to be forcibly dragged from the deck, and almost hurled into the boat which had brought her. The captain would have given his unwelcome visitor alms, and protested she was a harmless beggar whose motive for intrusion he could not guess. However, his brig stranded near the cove of Cork, and the crew consoled themselves with reminding each other that the dumb sybil might have prevented it. I mention this last particular as a proof how naturally my Art of Consolation is adapted to all classes. |