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every day that he will go out the next. your intercourse! He becomes as mute as
There can be no doubt that this is
much to carry their character about
are not fitting contemplations for a
mere Sedentary Liver is something
from the list of living authors to that
* Divine Nature ! And thou, when the why did not Mr Hunt include our
name in the list of living authors. diviner human nature ! how is he stricken We find there “Hunt, Leigh, Poetry dumb who would attempt to record the Criticism, Politics, and Miscellanies smallest part of the innumerable joys of Now, why not also “ North, Christ VOL. VI.
By the way
pher, Poetry, Politics, Metaphysics, We will hook a fish for you—and Mathematics, Criticism, Travels, Bon back him for his life against thé ExMots, and Cookery." We expect to aminer. It is four miles from Loch see this in the Literary Pocket-Book Awe to the Salt Sea of Loch Ericht.for 1821, and thenceforth evermore. The banks of the river Awe are pretty But we had almost forgotten Mr precipitous—and ere you, Mr Leigh Hunt's account of the mere Sportsman. Hunt, have been dancing five minutes It is plain that he knows nothing of over the crags, you will have bitter Nimrod. A tallyho would break the occasion for all your virility, and detympanum of his ear. Were we to voutly wish that the salmon were imagine one thing more ridiculous than crimped, so that he were but off the all the other ridiculous things in this end of your line. What do you think world, it would be the Examiner a of swimming arms of lakes—and fordsteeple-hunting. John Gilpin musting foamy torrents neck high-and have looked a Castor in comparison crossing wide moors up to the middle with the author of Rimini. Pray, in heather-and scaling mountains who ever heard of following a pack of girdled with granite-and driving your hounds in Summer? Mr Leigh Hunt solitary way through blind mists, or might as well go a butterfly-hunting roaring blasts, or rain deluges--of rein the dead of winter. For shame, ye turning at midnight to a sheeling op Cockneys ! to pursue, unto the death, the hill laden with spoil, and bowed poor puss and her infant family during down with the weary weight of many the dog-days. And is it, indeed, cus- savage and dreary leagues ? This is tomary, as Mr Leigh Hunt asserts in the nature of Scottish angling-inthis his Literary Pocket-Book, for deed, of all angling that deserves the Cockney sportsmen “ to fly into a name. 'As to old Isaac Walton, hotransport of rage” when the hounds nest man, he used to be a most partiare at fault? a mere sportsman is the cular favourite with Mr Leigh Hunt last man in the world to do that-he-but now he is “a pike in a doublet." is quite cool on such occasions, and The secret cause of all this raving uses the whip with alacrity but discri- against angling and anglers is, that we mination. Then, ye gentlemen of are anglers. Several admirable angEngland, what think you of angling ling articles have appeared in this Mafor salmon in the middle of summer, gazine, and, therefore, Mr Leigh on a sultry afternoon, by way of re- Hunt cannot endure angling. This is freshing yourselves after barriers ? quite pitiful. But it is true. and what think ye of crimping on the Enough of Mr Hunt for the prespot the salmon you thus miraculous- sent, so let us turn to “ Walks round ly ensnare? Oh! Leigh, Leigh, thy London, No I." a very easy, graceful, lips utter a vain thing, and thy heart and amiable little composition, which conceiveth foolishness! You and o-' we could almost suspect to be from ther literary men-poets, critics, and the pen of Mr Cornwall. politicians—it is who are, in verity, the crimpers of salmon. The mere sportsman does none of these things. He despiseth the fish, and eateth him “ If we were to judge by the number of not. Thou art the crimper. You handsome country residences, which, within say that angling is not a manly amuse
a few years, have “ risen like exhalations" ment. Why, there is no virility in would be pronounced the favourite quarter
on the different roads, the south side of London sitting in a punt, with your head for the citizens to retire to. But here, as in bobbing over the side, and your nose many other matters of taste, they do not in the water, laying plots against seem to have chosen the better part.” On perches, and revelling in the massacre the north of the great city, and at no greater of minnows. Angling is but a sorry distance, there are more situations which pastime in the New River. But come partake of the true country aspect. A few down to Scotland next autumn, when at random may be mentioned-and let a we pitch our tent on Loch Awe side, road from Hampstead to Hendon ; the rural
“ Suthron” match them if he can. The and you will then know whether or
district all round the feet of Hampstead and not angling be a manly amusement. Highgate ; the neighbourhood of Hornsey, We will put a twenty-foot-rod into Muswell-hill, Crouch-end, Colney-hatch, your hand, with fifty fathom of line, Southgate ;--the region about Waltham. and a reel as large as a five gallon cask. stow, Wanstead, Highbeach, and Seward
WALKS ROUND LONDOX.
stone. These are all beautiful, and in a a dell with nothing but grassy mounds on great measure still retain their rural faces, each side-like billows of the sea converted from the reason assigned—that they have into green fields. not been spoiled by favouritism. Nor, in- “ If I recollect rightly, by turning to deed, is it likely that they will be ; for the the left upon coming to the next road, we citizen, having a tendency to run upon a shall arrive at that quarter of Southgate flat, prefers the more level side of London ; which looks towards London. I ought here where he can at once make a greater and to remark, for the benefit of our gig and carmore visible figure among his neighbours, riage acquaintance, that a delightful road go backwards and forwards to town with less strikes off from Muswell-hill through Colneywear and tear to his equipage, and get an hatch to Southgate. Having arrived at the 'idea or so, when he pleases, from the live- outskirts of the village, we pass Sir William liness' of the dusty roads.
Curtis's farm on the left, and Mr Schneider's “ It is the intention of the Proprietors of handsome mansion on the right. The house this little work to devote a portion of it belonging to the late Chandos family is at every year to the description of Beautiful the entrance of the village from the road; Spots round London, within the reach of and before us is the sign of the Cherry those true lovers of the country—the PeTree, which, in the articles of inns, I radestrians.
ther think will prove Hobson's choice to us. “ From whatever point then we take our Let not the worthy landlord harbour for å start, we must make the best of our way to moment the idea that, from this expression, Hornsey-wood House ; pass the front of it, I mean the least disrespect towards the and skirt the pretty little copse to which it is Cherry Tree-gratitude forbid !--for we are attached. Before us we shall see a sharp bound to be grateful to accessible landlords ascent, which, in our quarter of the island, and amenable landladies. I have breakwe may dignify with the name of a hill.- fasted more than once at the Cherry Tree, This, from my ignorance of its real name, I and have a lively recollection of the cream, have hitherto called · Belle-vue :' perhaps the rolls, the ham, and the eggs set before • Fair-look,' or · Fair-view' will be better, me: not to omit the proper Miltonian cli. because it is English. When we have gain- max in the shape of a fair damsel, who ed the summit, a delightful prospect will ministered unto me'-I presume the land. be presented to us,-well wooded. Green lord's daughter.--I hope, on my own ac. fields intersected with hedges ;-and, wan- count, that she is not married ; unless she dering through them, the New River, which should, by singularly good fortune, have is ever an interesting object, both from its left as gentle a successor in the ministry as resemblance to a natural stream, and from herself. Southgate is a very pretty village ; the blessings it daily dispenses to thousands adorned with the country seats of London of our fellow citizens. Behind us we see gentlemen. This has gained it the title of the whole extent of London-its solid a mercantile aristocracy :' but do not mind masses of building—its domes and spires. the opinions of the inhabitants upon this The full view of a great city from a neigh- occasion ; they cannot turn the fields into bouring eminence is always impressive.- scarlet cloth, nor the trees into gold lace. We think of the quantity of mind which is The walk from Southgate to Enfield is very at work immediately under our eye:-of lovely—the foot-path much more so than the immense quantity, which for years and the carriage-way : the latter, however, wheyears has been at work, and is gone from ther over the Chase or through Winchmoreus and whither ? • All that mighty heart hill, is quite rural. The former commences is lying still !' This is to me the most immediately from the Cherry Tree-the clinging thought in the world. But we are stile, or gate, is I think contiguous to the to walk, and admire, and enjoy ourselves. house. We pass through a small tract of
“ We descend the hill into Hornsey-lane; ground planted with trees, dignified with thence pass through the burying-ground of the title of Southgate Wood. The propriea venerable church, and turn to the left tor, with an eye to economy of ground, through the town; keep the road, and it rather than to taste, has run a path through will bring us to the top of Muswell-hiil.--, it as straight as a plumb-line. I thought Here we have another noble view of Loucun, nothing of this when I used to come to col. with the Kent and Surrey hills in the dis- lect roots of primroses and honeysuckle for tance-Shooter's hill, Banstead-downs, and my little garden, and to cut hockey-sticks. Box-hill. From Muswell-hill there is a I despair of ever being so happy again, foot-path across the fields to Southgate, and notwithstanding the improvement in my this part of the journey is as beautiful, of its kind, as any lover of the country could wish “ The next village we come to is Winch. it to be. Sometimes you are in an open pasture more-hill, and the foot-path from thence to field, and every wind that sweeps across it Enfield, about a mile and half, is not to tells you of fresh verdure, and of the kine be excelled, I think, by any portion of the ruminating. Sometimes you are wading journey. Having arrived at the point prothrough the yellow rustling corn. Now on posed, for which, I fear, my readers as well the summit of a little hill, overlooking as fellow-walkers will be thankful, allow me quiet and pleasant farms : now suddenly in to recommend your submitting yourselves
to the care of Mr Markham, of the King's For months; or that the birds, more joyous grown, Head, who will set before you provisions
Catch once again their silver summer tone,
And they who late from bough to bough did and wine worthy of a more important coun
creep, try town : and he will add to your enter
Now trim their plumes upon some sunny steep,
And seem to sing of Winter overthrown: tainment the pleasant garniture of a civil
No-with an equal march the immortal mind, and respectful demeanour.
As tho' it never could be left behind “ Here, my friends, I take my leave, and
Keeps pace with every movement of the year,
And for high truths are born in happiness) recommend you to stay two or three days As the warm heart expands, the eye grows clear, and achieve the following walks in the And sees beyond the slave's or bigot's guess. neighbourhood.-To Bull's Cross, and on
ß wards through Theobald's Park to Cheshunt.
SUMMER. To White-webs Wood and its vicinity: Now have young April and the blue eyed May (near this spot, the conspirators in James
Vanished awhile, and lo! the glorious June
(While nature ripens in his burning noon), the First's reign used to meet; possibly to Comes like a young inheritor; and gay, watch the motions of the court whenever it Altho' his parent months have passed away: was held at Theobald's). To Clay-hill and
But his green crown shall wither, and the tune
That ushered in his birth be silent soon, its neighbourhood. To Northaw, Hadley, And in the strength of youth shall he decay. and East Barnet. Over all this ground has
What matters this so long as in the past
And in the days to come we live, and feel my
The present nothing worth, until it steal Careless childhood strayed, a stranger yet to pain, Away, and, like a disappointment, die?
C. C. C. For Joy, dim child of Hope and Memory,
Flies ever on before or follows fast. We must find room for a few speci
B mens of the poetry. The following
AUTUMN. little composition is precisely fitted for There is a fearful spirit busy now.
Already have the elements unfurled a Pocket-Book, kind, pure, and affec
Their banners: the great sea-wave is upcurled : tionate, and awakening the best feel- The cloud comes: the fierce winds begin to blow ings of our nature, all the most pleasant About, and blindly on their errands go, recollections of domestic life. It is by stripped of its pride, be like a desert show.
From their dry boughs, and all the forest world! Mr Charles Lloyd, author of Nugæ I love that moaning music which I hear Canoræ, reviewed in our last Number In the bleak gusts of Autumn, for the soul
Seems gathering tidings from another sphere, in a manner worthy of their great And,
in sublime mysterious sympathy, merit.
Man's bounding spirit ebbs, and swells more
high, TO PRISCILLA L-D-Written in May. Accordant to the billow's loftier roll. My Friend, Priscilla, as in days of old
B When Ossian's wild harp rang, the hero's breast Felt the soft touch of sympathy, and knew
WINTER. The spiritual accord of absent souls,
This is the eldest of the seasons: he So thou, my Sister, comest to my heart,
Moves not like spring with gradual step, nor Soft as the beam which from the evening sky
grows Smiles on the face of nature. Oft at night
From bud to beauty, but with all his snows Do I from melancholy dreams awake
Comes down at once in hoar antiquity. And think on thee, I know the bitter tears
No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests filee Which thou must often shed, ere Peace enshrine Before him, nor unto his time belong Her treasure in thy breast. Yet there are gleams The suns of Summer, nor the charms of song, Of comfort here, though many storms of woe: That with May's gentle smiles so well agree. There are sweet calls of morn's rejoicing voice, But he, made perfect in his birth-day cloud But there are many more departing days
Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound, Clothed in grief's interminable cloud.
And with a tender footstep prints the ground, Now Spring returns again! then come to me
As tho' to cheat man's ear: yet while he stays Gay thoughts of joy, ah, hopes long absent, come! He seems as 'twere to prompt our merriest The air is calm, serene and soft the sky,
days, Blue lies the water 'mid the swell of meads
And bid the dance and joke be long and loud. That glow with summer hues. The oak assumes
B A yellower green: the elm, and sycamore, And trembling lime, a darker verdure wave; We now put both the numbers of And many a shrub, in nearer view, delights With various foliage, underneath whose shade
the Literary Pocket-Book into their The tufted daisy and the priinrose peep.
place on our shelves and recommend Surely such forms of innocent delight Should warm my breast, and when to these I bring them to our readers. The idea is The memory of thy form, and mingle still
good and ingenuous, and the execution With nature's every charm thy valued love, I were ungrateful did my vacant heart
is, on the whole, excellent. The price Beat not with renovated thankfulness.
is only five shillings, and to a stranger Sweet sounds, sweet shapes, and perfumes mild and
in London it is worth three times, pure, Solicit every sense, and thou the while
five, if it were for nothing but the Dwell'st in my bosom.-Now, sweet girl, farewell !
lists. But there is also much clever, We close our extracts with four and some very fine writing in it, and sonnets by Mr Cornwall, which are independent of all the lists, and of the perfect in their beauty and majesty. diary too, the original matter is worth SONNETS ON THE SEASONS.
It may and will be im. SPRING.
proved upon year after year. To shew our It is not that sweet herbs and flowers alone
own estimation of it, we have not only Start up, like spirits that have lain asleep Ia their great mother's icod bosom deep
made it now furnish an article to us,
but we have purchased six copies for Olliers' shop in Vere Street. Our readnew-year's gifts to six young ladies of ers will observe a list of some new our acquaintance, on condition of hav- things in our Literary Intelligence of ing them returned to us at the close this month. We look hopefully to of 1820, after which we will keep them all--and long for an opportunity them sacred in our escrutoire among of saying something kind of “ Enethe gathered treasures of twice twenty silla." si Altham and his Wife,” by years.
the same anonymous, and to us unWe cannot conclude without re- known author, shewed both sensibility marking, that many very interesting and genius. little works keep issuing from Messrs
No. II. The Ancestress; a Tragedy. By Grillparzer.* ANOTHER astonishing genius has very tisfy our readers, that the genius of lately devoted himself to the dramatic Grillparzer is one of the most pure, career in Germany; by name Francis masterly, and majestic order. Grillparzer. He is even a younger
We have already hinted, that the man than Adolphus Müllner ; and on German poets of the present day are the whole, perhaps, promises to ef- very fond of the doctrine of fatalism; fect still greater wonders in the de- indeed very few of them seem to think partment which he has chosen. We it possible to compose a powerful traare yet acquainted with only two of gedy without introducing the idea of his plays, the Sappho and the Ances- some dark impending destiny long tress, and each in its way appears to predetermined-long announced imus to be a master-piece. The former perfectly-long dreaded obscurely-in is written on the strict Greek model, the accomplishment of which the chief and breathes throughout the truest persons of the drama are to suffer mispirit of antique lyrical inspiration, series for which their own personal ofturned to the delicate display of all fences have not been sufficient to furthe workings of that most beautiful of nish any due cause. We have no bethe passions, on which, in its finest lief that they are wise in entertaining and purest shapes, the dramatic writ- so exclusive a partiality for this species ings of the Greeks themselves can of interest ; but there is no question scarcely be said to have touched. The the effect it produces in their hands is latter, of which we now propose to such as to account very easily for the give a short account, is written en- partiality with which dramas, comtirely on the romantic plan of Cal- posed on this principle, are now rederon, but its interest is chiefly founded garded by all the audiences and alon the darkest superstitions of north- most all the critics of Germany. Neiern imagination. It is composed ther is it to be denied, that many of throughout, as indeed many of the the most perfect creations of preceding German dramas of the present time dramatists have owed much of their are, in the same light and lyrical kind power to the influence of the same of versification of which the most idea. It lies at the root of all those charming specimens are to be found in Greek tragedies, in which the early the works of the great Spanish mas- history of the heroic houses is emter. It must lose, therefore, not a bodied; and in later times it has been little of its peculiar character and frequently used both by Calderon and beauty by being rendered in a style so Shakspeare. It is sufficient to mendifferent as that of our English blank- tion the Meditation on the Cross of the verse-but even in spite of this dis- one, and the Macbeth of the other. advantage, enough will remain to sa- The present tragedy is a terrible ex
* We have been permitted to make use of a MS. translation of this play by Mr Gillies. We have also been promised the use of several other versions of fine German tragedies which he has already executed all of them in a manner quite worthy of his fine talents.