tecture, and their rich collections of painting and sculpture. Of the three hundred and sixty churches in Rome, there is not one which does not contain some picture, statue, mosaic, or monumental structure, either of positive excellence or historical interest. And when the full mind can receive no more impressions, and he comes into the open air for repose, he finds himself surrounded with objects which quicken and feed the sense of art. The dreary monotony of uniform brick walls, out of which doors and windows are cut at regular intervals, no longer disheartens the eye, but the view is everywhere varied by churches, palaces, public buildings, and monuments, not always of positive architectural merit, but each with a distinctive character of its own. The very fronts of the houses have as individual an expression as human faces in a crowd. His walks are full of exhilarating surprises. He comes unawares upon a fountain, a column, or an obelisk a pine or a cypress a ruin or a statue. The living forms which he meets are such as he would gladly pause and transfer to his sketch-book - ecclesiastics with garments of flowing black, and shovel-hats upon their heads capuchins in robes of brown-peasant girls from Albano, in their holiday bodices, with black hair lying in massive braids, large brown eyes, and broad low foreheads - beggars with white beards, whose rags flutter picturesquely in the breeze, and who ask alms with the dignity of Roman senators. Beyond the walls are the villas, with their grounds and gardens, like landscapes sitting for their pictures, and then the infinite, inexhaustible Campagna, set in its splendid frame of mountains, with its tombs and aqueducts, its skeleton cities and nameless ruins, its clouds and cloud-shadows, its memories and traditions. He sees the sun go down behind the dome of St. Peter's, and light up the windows of the drum with his red blaze, and the dusky veil of twilight gradually extend over the whole horizon. In the moonlight evenings, he walks to the Colosseum, or to the piazza of St. Peter's, or to the ruins of the Forum, and under a light which conceals all that is unsightly, and idealizes all that is impressive, may call up the spirit of the past, and bid the buried majesty of old Rome start from its tomb."— Vol. II. pp. 253 255. But to this bright picture there is a reverse, and Mr. Hillard has presented with equal skill the many obstacles to the highest success of the young artist when placed in the midst of so many models of almost perfect beauty. His remarks are too long to be quoted here; but they are strikingly just and beautiful, and well exhibit the happy balance of our traveller's mind. When 1853.] Characteristics of the Work. 389 in the presence of works of high art he gave himself up to a full and cordial admiration of them; and on the other hand, as before intimated, some of the finest sections in his work are descriptive of natural objects. But whenever any subject assumes a practical aspect, as in the passage just quoted, the calmness and sobriety of his judgment and the breadth and liberality of his views are not less noticeable. In his second volume Mr. Hillard has introduced several chapters, in which he thus deals with practical questions in a wise and comprehensive spirit. Among these are the chapter on the Agriculture of the Campagna, and that in which a comparison is instituted between the inhabitants of the Alban Mount and the people of the rural districts of New England. Both of these chapters are particularly valuable and interesting, and are deserving of a careful reading for the information they contain on points about which few travellers give themselves much trouble. Another chapter of a similar character treats of the houses, inhabitants, site, and climate of Rome, and of the malaria which so constantly hangs around the city. A very pleasant chapter is devoted to an excursion to Pompeii; and there are also sketches of Naples, Genoa, Perugia, Assissi, and other famous places. At the end of the volume are three chapters giving brief notices of the principal writers who have visited Italy, with extracts from their works. In attempting this criticism of his predecessors Mr. Hillard has entered upon very hazardous ground. But he has accomplished his difficult task with great success, and probably no reader will wish that these chapters had been omitted, however much any one may differ with the critic in his judgment of particular writers. Throughout his volumes Mr. Hillard preserves a kindly temper, and in speaking of the many annoyances to which every one who travels is subjected, he never gives way to a querulous tone. He generally contrives to pluck some flower from the thistles which grow in the traveller's path; and even the intolerable nuisance of Italian beggars, so exasperating to most travellers, fails to excite any vehement outbursts. On the contrary, he is strongly inclined to give them credit for a disposition to work if opportunity offered for the exercise of their muscles. How far this opinion may be correct we cannot determine; but certainly the good-natured feeling which prompts such a judgment is by no means so common a virtue among travellers as to be unworthy of a passing notice. In these brief and discursive remarks on Mr. Hillard's volumes we have merely indicated some of their chief points of interest and characteristic merits. But enough has been said and quoted to show how high a place they must hold among similar publications. Certainly we know no books of travel to which higher praise can be awarded, whether we consider their calm and thoughtful tone, their general interest, or the beauty of their style. In taking leave of our author, we need only thank him for the pleasure which we have derived from his volumes, and express the hope that he may long continue to labor in those fields of literary endeavor in which he has achieved so honorable a position. C. C. S. ART. VI. POETRY. SONG OF DEBORAH: A LAY OF ANCIENT ISRAEL. THANK God! now Israel is revenged! Freely her people came. Hear, kings! hear, princes! while I sing Jehovah's mighty name. Jehovah! when thou wentest forth from Seir, from Edom's plain, The earth did quake: the skies dropped dew: the clouds poured floods of rain : The mountains melted from before Jehovah's awful face: In the days of Shamgar, Anath's son, and Joel, all the highways They had chosen them strange gods: war at their gates was raging then: No shield or spear was seen among their forty thousand men. 1853.] Song of Deborah. 391 To you, The voice of herdsmen, watering their cattle by the springs! Where the battle was most hotly fought, the shout of victory rings! The people of Jehovah were hard pressed: but let them tell Arouse thee, Deborah! awake! sing the triumphal song! First Ephraim came, towards Amalek: then Benjamin's trained bands: Then Machir's chiefs, and Zebulon's, with truncheons in their hands: With Deborah followed Issachar, his captains and his men : By Reuben's brooks, brave words, grave looks! Why sit among your cattle ? To hear the shepherds' piping? Do ye fear the shout of battle? At Taanach, by Megiddo's stream, the kings of Canaan fought : Fiercely they fought, yet found they not the booty that they sought. From heaven they fought! Stars in their courses fought with Sisera! Old Kishon's stream - swift Kishon's stream away! -it swept his host O, then we smote and trampled down proud Canaan's men of might, And loud and fleet the horse-hoofs beat, that sped their captain's Curse flight! ye Meroz! said God's angel then: ay, curse the coward clan That came not to Jehovah's aid, - that sent not spear nor man! * The equipage of magistrates in Israel. But Joel, Heber's wife, above all women blessed be! Her left hand held the nail, her right the heavy hammer drave! The hammer smote proud Sisera through the brain and through the head: At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay, at her feet he dropped down dead! From her window cries his mother, where the lattice half conceals, "Why tarry my son's chariots? why delay his chariot-wheels?" "Must they not, then," her ladies said, " find and divide the prey? Each man his captive maid or two, rich robes for Sisera, A prize of bright embroidered robes, fine wrought, with curious toil, Doubly embroidered scarlet robes, the glory of the spoil?" So perish all thine enemies, Jehovah! but may those Who honor thee be like the sun, when forth in strength he goes! STRENGTH. TO AN INVALID. J. H. A. "WHEN I am weak, I 'm strong," The strength that did not to the earth belong "When I am weak, I'm strong." And flung its victory o'er the ills that throng "When I am weak, I 'm strong," These words will tune its feeblest breath to song, |