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Mbph. What?

Faust. Seest thou not a pale Fair girl, standing alone, far, far away?
She drags herself forward now with slow steps,
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet:
I cannot overcome the thought that she
Is like poor Margaret.
Me Ph. Let it be—pass on— No good can come of it—it is not well
To meet it—it is an enchanted phantom,
A lifeless idol—with its numbing look
It freezes up the blood of man; and they
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone,
Like those who saw Medusa.
Faust. Oh, too true!Her eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse
Which no beloved hand has closed—Alas!
That is the heart which Margaret yielded to me—
Those are the lovely limbs which I enjoyed!
Meph. It is all magic, poor deluded fool;She looks to every one like his first love.
Faust. Oh, what delight! what woe! I cannot turn
My looks from her sweet piteous countenance.
How strangely does a single blood-red line,
Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife,
Adorn her lovely neck!
Mkph. Aye, she can carry Her head under her arm upon occasion;Perseus has cut it off for her.'

To show how well the man who could serve the Gothic muse iu this way, could feel and transfer the polished graces of an Attic master, we shall transcribe part of the first chorus in Mr. Shelley's version of the Cyclops (Ula 8q Jlco< ysvvaicov /xsv waTegcov, &c.)

Where has he of race divine
Wandered in the winding rocks?
Here the air is calm and fine
For the father of the flocks ;—
Here the grass is soft and sweet
And the river eddies meet
In the trough beside the cave,
Bright as in their fountain-wave.—
Neither here nor on the dew
Of the lawny uplands feeding?Oh, you come!—a stone at you
Will I throw, to mend your breeding;—
Get along, you horned thing,
Wild, seditious, rambling!

K 4 Epode. Epodjb.

An Iacchic melody

To the golden Aphrodite Will I lift, as erst did I Seeking her and her delight With the Maenads, whose swift feet To the music glance and fleet. Bacchus, O beloved, where, Shaking wide thy yellow hair, Wanderest thou alone, afar?To the one eyed Cyclops, we, Who by right thy servants are, Minister in misery. In these wretched goatskins clad, Far from thy delights and thee.' The dialogue of the piece is rendered with equal spirit: as, for example, in the more Euripidean than Cyclopean speech of Polyphemus in reply to Ulysses' petition for mercy in the name of the Gods and hospitality, ('O I1\sto(, avQgamlvxe, roif <ro$o7$ flsoj, &c.) 'Wealth, my good fellow, is the wise man's god, All other things are a pretence and boast. What are my father's ocean promontories, The sacred rocks whereon he dwells, to me? Stranger, I laugh to scorn Jove's thunderbolt— I know not that his strength is more than mine. As to the rest I care not. When he pours Rain from above, I have a close pavilion Under this rock, in which I lie supine, Feasting on a roast calf, or some wild beast, And drinking pans of milk, and gloriously Emulating the thunder of high heaven. And when the Thracian wind pours down the snow, I wrap my body in the skins of beasts, Kindle a fire, and bid the snow whirl on. The earth, by force, whether it will or no, Bringing forth grass, fattens my flocks and herds, Which, to what other god but to myself, And this great belly, first of deities, Should I be bound to sacrifice? I well know The wise man's only Jupiter is this, To eat and drink during his little day, And give himself no care. And as for those Who complicate with laws the life of man, I freely give them tears for their reward. — I will not cheat my soul of its delight, Or hesitate in dining upon you :— And, that I may be quit of all demands, These are my hospitable gifts ;—fierce fire, And you ancestral cauldron, which o'erbubbling Shall finely cook your miserable flesh. —Creep in 1—' Tbe

The Homeric hymn to Mercury is translated in stanzas of eight lines—which difficult measure Mr. Shelley has managed with considerable skill. His version preserves very much the archaic and pastoral tone of the original, both as to manners and language; but a short specimen would be insufficient, and for a long one we have not room.

One department of our literature has, without doubt, sustained a heavy loss in the early death of this unfortunate and misguided gentleman.


Art. VIII.—1. Transactions of the Cambridge Philosophical Society, vol. i.

2. Memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester. 2d Series, vol. iv. London. 1824.

3. Transactions of the Royal Geological Society of Cornwall, instituted February 11. vol. i. and ii. Penzance.

4. Report of the Liverpool Royal Institution. 1822.

5. Bristol Institution. Proceedings of the Second Annual Meeting, held February 10, 1825, ftc.

C. Annual Report of the Council of the Yorkshire Philosophical Society for 1824.

GROWING taste for the cultivation of Physical Science characterizes the present state of the public mind in England, and deserves attentive consideration, since facilities, whether for acquiring elementary instruction in the various departments of Natural Philosophy,or for promoting their farther advancement, have not hitherto been provided by us with such liberality as has distinguished our exertions in behalf of other branches of useful knowledge. To insist on the high relative importance of scientific studies, whether as enlarging the sphere of our intellectual enjoyments, or as contributing to the rank and power of the nation, would in the present age be altogether superfluous; and every reflecting mind must be prepared to expect that our rapid improvement in wealth, intelligence, and civilization, should not merely render indispensable successive modifications and re-modellings of our political institutions, but also call, from time to time, for some corresponding changes in our public provisions for extending the advantages of a liberal education. The introduction and discovery of various arts and sciences before unknown or disregarded, and still more the rise and swift growth of new cities, and the sudden affluence to which commercial or manufacturing industry has raised districts hitherto insignificant and thinly peopled, must necessarily have created new wants; in the attempt to supply these the energies of our countrymen have

of of late been signally displayed; and the measures which have been carried into effect throughout the country with great harmony of design, although chiefly by the unassisted exertions of private individuals, are characteristic of the genius of the British people, and without parallel in the history of contemporary nations. We allude to the recent establishment of numerous literary and philosophical institutions in our metropolis and many of our provinces.

These are as yet indeed in the infancy of their career, but even now, if regarded collectively, they are entitled to a prominent place amongst our national establishments. Many people, it is true, have scarcely heard of their very existence—for no other reason than that their expediency has never assumed the character of a party question, and has never therefore become an animating topic of popular discussion. When we reflect, indeed, how often the proposal of new measures bearing less directly than these on the general interests of society has served to kindle in this country the spirit of political controversy,—when we remember that, at no distant period, rival theories of a purely philosophical nature, and as unconnected with the affairs of human life as the elements which strove for mastery in Milton's chaos,' around the flag, of each his faction,' derived, nevertheless, exclusively from the ranks of opponent political parties, their zealous champions, we are at a loss to conceive by what happy accident the Institutions in question have so long escaped this prevailing contagion; and the addition of a few similar instances would persuade us that 'Chance' here also, as in the poet's allegory, 'is high arbiter, and governs all.' But as the interests involved in the present subject are of sufficient magnitude to arrest attention without the factitious aid of party excitement, we shall proceed to lay before our readers a brief sketch of the progress of these institutions considered in the order of their date—confining ourselves, lest we should transgress the limits of a single article, to such as are designed to promote the advancement of physical science, a class of studies never in former times fostered by a due share of public encouragement.

To enable our readers to form a correct idea of the present state of these establishments, a consideration of those of a more ancient foundation is indispensable; we shall, however, merely mention here the Royal Society, as the services rendered to science by that body throughout the greater part of two centuries, and the information contained in their Transactions, (now amounting to 114 volumes,) so varied in its nature and so profound, are justly and universally appreciated. For the same reason we shall merely advert to the Observatory of Greenwich, founded a few

years years later, and of which the Royal Society is the official visitor. If the labours of this establishment had been limited to the computing and publishing its Nautical Ephemeris, it would still have rendered a powerful aid to the commercial and maritime superiority of Great Britain, and we might confidently appeal to this work as to one of the most beneficial of all the practical results of astronomy.

It was nearly a century after the institution of the Royal Society before a national museum of Natural History was founded in our metropolis. The British Museum was opened in 1759, and the magnificent collection of Sir Hans Sloane, and one formed by the Royal Society, were at that time deposited there. Deficiency of space has, from the commencement of this Museum, impeded the increase and arrangement of the specimens, and we therefore congratulate the public on the noble additions to the building now in progress. The collections in various branches of Natural History at present assembled there are undeniably of the first importance, nor have their scientific classification and arrangement been neglected, in so far as means were provided by the country for this purpose; but, regarded as a national museum, and still more as the first in the British empire, it is wholly unworthy of the present age. As England is not only the most affluent of modern nations, but the grand centre of commercial activity and communication between the most distant portions of the globe; as her colonial possessions are more diversified in climate and local character than those of any other European empire, we may naturally ask why her museums do not display a proportional extent and magnificence, and set all foreign rivalry at defiance? Why, on the contrary, are they so decidedly inferior not only to those of France, but of several petty states of Italy and Germany? The reply to this question is not difficult. The inferiority complained of could not long have existed in a country where the opinion of the enlightened and educated classes exercises a predominant sway and disposes of the whole resources of the state, had there been a general taste for promoting physical science, or had our countrymen discovered the intimate relation between its progress and large accumulations of objects of natural history. They have at length made this discovery, and having perceived the inadequacy of private funds and individual efforts to accumulate these treasures on a scale of liberality consistent with the present state of science, they have organized associations and obtained liberal grants from parliament for establishments both in England and Scotland, and are taking steps to secure the enlargement and future permanency of scientific institutions. But we are still passing the threshold only of this new asra in

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