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Memoirs of Eminent Persons-Werner, the Geologist.

[VOL. 2 dedicated all his attention to researches first as lying within the circle of the which seemed to lie entirely out of his sciences connected with natural history, sphere. His enquiries into the direction but afterwards in the latter years of his of the mountains of the first and second life, that he might be enabled to judge formation led him to the seat and the of the bodily sufferings of himself and migrations of the aboriginal tribes and others, so that medical books were his their branches. To this were soon join- favorite reading, and conversation on ed inquiries into the original languages medical subjects what he preferred to and radical syllables, which he prosecut- every other. Ever ready to afford ased with the greatest acuteness and redu- sistance, he was happy, when he visited ced into tables. The result was an uni- a sick friend, to be able to give medical versal glossary of all the radical syllables, advice, and also to judge of his own sitand characteristic sounds, in all the lan- uation which he often thought precariguages with which he was acquainted; ous. The danger of such an inclination, which he studied with ardour, and to which can never lead to any thing farcomplete his knowledge of which he ther than empiricism, is evident. His purchased the most expensive works. best friends, among whom we may reckHis antiquarian researches into the min- on the veteran of the healing art, the eralogy of the ancients made him a pas- venerable Dr. Kapp, at Dresden, somesionate friend of archæology, one branch times reproved him for this; but it reof which, the numismatology of the an- mained his favourite hobby-horse. He cients, had become so favourite a pur- had drawn up a very ingenious table of suit with him during the last eight years diseases according to the stages of huof his life, that he purchased entire col- man life, from infancy to old age: he lections of medals, and in a short time was a sworn enemy to vinegar and all was in possession of above 6000 ancient kinds of milk diet, but a determined Greek and Roman coins. This ena- beef-eater. In other respects he lived bled him to make interesting researches very temperately, drank but little wine, into the different mixtures of the metals, and was especially and anxiously careful and on the arts of adulteration; and in about warm clothing and warm rooms. order to the farther elucidation of this He first visited Carlsbad, when a boy subject, he formed an entire series of of only 14 years of age, and bad since false coins. An unedited silver coin of been there 41 times. Here, even in the his collection, which he gave to Catau- latest part of the autumn, he always acro, of Milan, is still the subject of a quired new strength. had not imperinumismatic controversy between the con- ous circumstances hindered him this noisseurs of Vienna and Italy. His pro- time from visiting at an earlier period fessional pursuits rendered him an excel- the salutary fountain, which had become lent judge of ground, and led him to absolutely necessary to him, he would conceive a great fondness for military perhaps have still lived. He was fond tactics. He studied the art of war with of travelling, and spoke with emotion diligence, read the accounts given by and pleasure of his visit to Paris in 1802, masters in this branch, and acquired a where he was received with the greatest fine collection of military books. Offi- respect. Though not indifferent to excers of the engineers and general staff ternal distinctions, to the diplomas of were surprised to hear him speak of the foreign academies and learned societies, mistakes committed by the allies from he never sought or asked for them, and want of due knowledge of the ground, in conversation never attached any value in their attack upon Dresden in August, to them. However, he was justly proud 1813, where he happened to be present. of being a member of the Institute of His name was mentioned at the head- France, and of the Wernerian Society quarters of the allied sovereigns at Frank- in England. Even on his death-bed fort, and he was invited to repair thither, he learned with joy from his former pubut his inflexible attachment to his sovereign made him decline the invitation. Medicine also attracted his attention, at

pil and faithful friend, the Professor of Natural History at Edinburgh, Jameson, that not only several Mineralogical So

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that Professorships of Mineralogy on Werner's principles were founded at Oxford, Cambridge, London, Glasgow, Cork, Dublin, and Belfast. At his suggestion a society of friends of natural philosophy and mineralogy was formed last winter in Dresden, over which Werner himself presided.

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cieties flourished in Great Britain, but who were most intimately connected with him enjoyed his tenderest interest and care.—“ In his house," said Boettiger, in his Farewell Address, “on the eminence of Gorbitz, company daily assembled for his advice, and the same hand with which he felt the pulse of Nature, raised and supported every unfortunate. His simple manners, his corHe was in the best sense of the expres- dial cheerfulness, and his social playfulsion a citizen of the world. His house was ness, made him the favourite of his felthe constant rendezvous of curious travel- low-citizens. When Werner entered, lers of all countries and of all ranks ; and every countenance brightened; the wohe shewed to them all, with uncommon men, too, loved the company of a man patience and attention, his museum, and who, without insipid compliments, alespecially his collection of precious ways had something delicate and enterstones, which excites surprise by the val- taining to say to them. In his earlier ue and variety of the specimens. He years his feeling heart would doubtless did not, however, like writing letters, have made him highly susceptible of enbecause he preferred personal intercourse joying the sweets of domestic life: but to every thing, and dreaded the loss of he did not find what he sought. In time. This disinterested participation later years he renounced the idea of in whatever promoted in any country them, out of love to science, and was the interests of knowledge and humani- fully indemnified by the cordial attachty, did not hinder him from being the ment of his pupils and friends. Penemost faithful son of his own country, the trated with that true devotion which most loyal reverer of his king. He re- worships God in spirit and in truth, he fused every invitation from abroad, (and often preached to his pupils the purest he received at an early period several morality, which he confirmed by his own very brilliant and alluring ones,) and example; and even in his lectures often was for many years contented with a rose with genuine enthusiasm from the very moderate salary, supporting himself miracles of nature to their Divine Auby private lectures. He made presents thor. Such was the man of whom his to all the academies and public schools contemporaries and his country will of Saxony, and endeavoured by this ever be proud; a man equally distinmeans every where to excite a predilec- guished by his rare learning, his goodtion for natural philosophy. Those ness of heart, and unspotted character."

From "Time's Telescope."

THE NEW YEAR.'

POETRY.

A year may bring the wounded mind repose,
O'erwhelm the happy with unnumbered woes;
May case the captive's doom:

A fleeting year, ere it is past and gone,

ANOTHER year baswing dn mysterious May add fresh beauty to the form of one--

Still wrapt the future in

night,

An eager baste we feel;

We long--we hope---and e'en swift time seems slow--

Enquiring ask, while yet we would not know,

What may this year reveal?

What may it not?---Ah! one short year may

send

To his long home, a loved, a valued friend---
Bring others to our view---

Lay hundreds low in death--- Alas! replace
Full many a well-known and lamented face,
By forms entirely new.

Decay another's bloom--

May ope to sorrow pleasure's blissful door,
Make the poor wealthy, and the wealthy poor;
Thus change the forms of fate---
May shower profuse, from golden realms
above,

On private homes the joys of peace--and love--
Bring discord to a state.

Could we look forward but through one short
year,

How would the smile alternate chase the tear,
The tear its place supply;

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[VOL.2

Since that dread day, when in these hapless

arms,

I saw Sophia's faded form expire.

4.

Moment of horror! when the hand of death, In night eternal, quench'd her eyes' soft flame;

When her dear lips, with their last fleeting breath,

In trembling accents sigh'd her Henry's

name.

5.

Then in my sight all nature seemed to fade; Each beauteous scene was veil'd in midnight gloom,

And nought appeared, save yon deep cypress shade,

That low'ring bends above Sophia's tomb.

From the Gentleman's Magazine.

ODE.

H. E. L.

ASTERIA ROCKING THE CRADLE.

By Mr. GEORge Dyer.

IS fair Asteria's sweet employ,

"Truck you little restless boy:

Tho' small that cradle, it contains
Treasure, beyond a King's domains.
Not all Arabia's spicy store,
Not all Golconda's glittering ore,
Lysian fields, nor i den's grove,
Could buy that little restless love.
Dear babe! the fair Asteria cries;
Dear babe! the listening muse replies;
While here a faithful guard we keep,
Dear babe, enjoy the honied sleep.
Now hush, the sobs! now hush, the cries!
Lo gentle slumbers close his eyes!
And here a faithful guard we keep,
Sweet babe! enjoy the honied sleep.

Ere yon fair orb, that rules the sky,
Beau'd on that little stranger's eye;
Ere yet with feeble voice it wept,
Close in the silent womb it slept.

And, who can tell the bitter smart
That pierc'd Asteria's trembling heart?
Yet sure there's magic in that boy,
That wakes the soft parental joy.

Still on Asteria's langnid face
The primrose paleness keeps its place:
Yet o'er that face what brilliant hues

Can this beloved babe diffuse!

How sweet beside the cradle's brink,
In musing state to gaze and think!
No daisied bank, no green trill's s.de,
So shines in nature's decent pride.
Now see the babe unclose his eyes!
And see the mother's transports rise !
How every feature charms her sight!
How every motion wakes delight!
What rising beauties there she views!
The rosy p, the pol sh'd nose,
The slender eyebrow budding thin,
The velvet cheek, the dimpling chin.
Anon she views the sparkling eye,
The lifted hand, the tuneful cry;
And hastening on thro' years to come,
She traces out his future doom.

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"Haply he'll plead Religion's cause;
Or weep o'er Freedom's bleeding laws;
Or feel the Poet's sacred rage;
Or trace the dark Historic page."

Nor is so sweet the sweetest gale,
That breathes across the silent vale,
From myrtle grove or garden's bloom,
As is the bonied breath's perfume.

At length she breathes the fervent prayer:
Great God, oh! make my child thy care!
And may his future actions be
Sacred to virtue, dear to thee!

Whatever fortune then betide,
Thou shalt his portion still abide ;
And when the course of life is run,
Give him a never-withering crown.

From the European Magazine.

A RELIC FROM WATERLOO.*

FAREWELL !---the blow that ends the

strife

Dooms but a ruin to decay--One---but one link of less than life

Remains to end in nameless clay.

Let him who treads the death-field, spare
This relic, lov'd too late and long---
Ah !---leave it in my dust to share
The home a miser dare not wrong.

And if to greet thy proud return

My father lifts his hoary head, He will not start nor shrink to learn How low I rest on Honour's bed. But shun the deep blue melting eye That fondly looks and glistens near; Nor tell what lonely sepulchre Thy pity gave the Cuirassier. My mother!--- Fancy's earliest flow'r Was by thy tender fost'ring nurst; Thine was my noon tide's brightest hour,

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And thine the thought that warm'd it first--

Receive the last !---thy glory's stem

Has fallen, and its pride is past;
But thou wilt treasure as a gem
The blighted leaf that linger'd last.

Thou wast the eyelid of my soul,

Preserver of its purest sense;
And once beneath thy bland controul
It slept in holy innocence.
Oft to the brink of ruin's flood

Thou cam'st a wand'rer to arrest ;
And smiling in thy bounty shew'd
The softness of a matron's breast.
Then by thy mild---thy pleading look,
Light of iny erring Life !---1 Vow'd
To write my name in Glory's book,
Or moulder in an early shroud.
The flow'rs of revelry and wit

Have left this hollow bos m hare ;
But one long-hid remembrance yet

Lives like the dark soft violet there.
There is an eye that will not mork
The ruin in this breast unseen---
The chasm in the shatter'd rock

Tells where the diamond mine has been.

* Collected from fragments found near a dead cuirassier, with a broken picture.

Twas plunder'd, but enough is left

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A lightning spark from Heav'n to win--Its thunderbolt has struck the cleft, But woke the glorious flame within!--

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ANOTHER RELIC.

BRIGHT are the Muses' gifts, they say,
In Glory's field and Summer's day,
Tho' brief must be the verse I put on
So small a subject as a Button;
Yet, Stella---to thyself I prove
This button is a type of love.

It forms attachments near and strong---
It brightens oft by wearing long;
Through narrow chinks it wins a way,
And holds when other loops decay:
Here often like thy beauty's charm,
It keeps a soldier's bosom warm.
We praise not circles that abound
In grandeur, but the perfect round---
And in this button's humble size
How true a cycle charms our eyes
Thus in a little ring enshrin'd
Love's amphitheatre we find.
This relic, fresh from holy earth,

V.

Is more than modern honour's worth:
Fame, wealth, and wisdom, do for man
No more than simple buttons can---
While Glory's sparks fly off like rockets,
They grace his coat and guard his pockets.
This sparkled once on Brunswick's breast,
And lay with noble hearts at rest---
From precious dust it rises now
To loop the hat on Stella's brow---
There join'd to beauty, wit, and science,
It serves again a Belle Alliance.
June 2d.

V.

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From the Literary Gazette.

Original Poetry.

ON BEING TOLD TO REMEMBER.

"R

EMEMBER!" Yes, time shall not take

Thy image from my breast; "Remember!" Yes, till life forsake

That heart thou oft hast blest.

"Remember!" Yes, when bright-eyed morn Brings joy to all but me;

When fancy points where bliss was born,
Then I'll remember thee.

"Remember!" Yes, at noon-tide hour,
And when the dews of eve
Embalm each fading transient flow'r,
That smil'd but to deceive.

"Remember!" Yes, when midnight-star
Gleams on the ocean's swell,
And hears that voice, tho' distant far,
Which sighs to friends, farewell!

From the Monthly Magazine.

M.

ON THE DEATH OF AN ENGAGING CHILD UNDER THREE YEARS.

BY ROBERT RANKIN.

H! why---the heart-rent parents ask---
Take the dear child so lately given;

E'er we could enter on the task

Of teaching him the way to Heaven ?
Why was the link of love, oh say,

Wisdom divine! so early broke?
Why were the stem and tender spray
Divided with so keen a stroke?
The parents listen---from the skies,
In seraph tones and accents mild,
A pure angelic voice replies;

Hark! 'tis the spirit of their child:
Dearest on earth! I ne'er was given,

But by my heavenly Father sent
To teach, not to be taught; and Heaven
Receiv'd back only what was lent.
Pure as a ray of heavenly light,
I visited your earth's abode ;
And pure as angels, ever bright,

Return'd again to dwell with God.
Then calm your sorrows, soothe distress,
And learn of me the heavenly road;
Let purity your hearts possess---
The pure alone can be with God.
The link of love, renew'd with him,
Can ne'er again such frailty show;
And, in his Paradise, the stem
And spray will live and ever blow.

From the Monthly Magazine. MY LITTLE ROOM.

[VOL. 2

Though the walls of a college have never confin'd

What philosophers tell me to say is my mind,
Yet the wags, in their wisdom, continue to call
The lodging I dwell in---the Bachelor's Hall.
They're welcome to term it whatever they
chuse,

A cloister, a ball, or a seat for the Muse;
I care not at all if it does but contain
The sylphs which, they say, preside o'er the
brain;

For then they would help me at that stupid time,

When the thoughts will flow neither in prose nor in rhyme.

For a moment, however, this hall I'll survey, And, like Hezekiah, my treasures display: Tho' its stores are but few, yet still I am told, By those who are judges, they are worth more than gold;

The lowest shall first be brought into view, (Whose beauty to keep, you must clean well each shoe,)

"Tis a carpet, which never in Turkey was seen, Tho' its colours are red, intermingled with green:

In a corner there stands a box, which they say
Is fill'd with the wealth of Newcastle each day;
And near it a neat little grate there is plac'd,
With fender and irons most tastefully grac'd;
The list of my furniture soon I shall end,
A table, a bed, and a chair for a friend,
Is all I possess; except you'll allow
The visions of Fancy realities now:
Of these I enjoy a pretty good share,
Tho' I'm not cross'd in love, nor burden'd
with care.

But now to my treasures---they stand on a
shelf,

And seem more conspicuous e'en than myself:
To give them a name would puzzle the elves,
Tho' booksellers call them octavos and twelves;
And some, which appear more majestic in size,
Are folios and quartos, and deem'd a great
prize.

Tho' shabby their coat, yet 'neath it we find
What the pious would call a heav'nly mind.
Here Ridgely appears, as dry as a stick,
To prose o'er his pages would make us quite
sick;

One really would think the good man was afraid

Of breaking the law if an image he made. Next "silver-tongu'd Bates," whose soft flowing strain

Invites us to listen again and again;
And Oliver's Chaplain, both turgid and grand,
Whose language and thoughts can attention
command.

These sages among many others are found,
And some who have trodden on classical

ground;

Adorning my hall, and giving a grace To what would be else a desolate place.

In this little cell secluded each day, My time rolls serenely and swiftly away:

WHEN the hills are array'd in a mantle of And, tho' some may think it a very poor life

snow,

And the icicles hang on the bushes below; When thro' the dark forest the winter-wind howls,

And the tempest with fury along the heath

scowls--

Secure from their rage, I sit near my fire, Perusing my book, or tauing my lyre.

live so recluse, not have a wife, Yet let them remember the converse I hold With the spirits of those whom Fame has enroll'd,

And, weighing the subject, then let them

declare,

If the bachelor ought to be join'd to the fair. June, 1817.

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