THE MIRROR
OF
LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

GUY'S CLIFF.

"A home of pleasure, a place meet for the Muses."—Leland.

Warwick—what olden glories and tales of other times are associated with this county. How many of its sites are connected with high-minded men and great and glorious actions. To the antiquary, the poet, and the philosopher, every foot is hallowed ground; and even the cold calculations of the commercial speculator treat with regard a county whose manufactures add to the stock of national wealth and importance. How many stories of love, war, and chivalry are told of its halls, castles, and monasteries, their lords and ladies and maidens of high birth. Kenilworth and Stratford—Leicester, Shakspeare and Warwick—like long trails of light, all flit before us in this retrospective dream of the days of "merry England."

Guy's Cliff is situated about one mile and a half north-east of Warwick. Here the river Avon winds through fertile meadows; and on its western bank, a combination of rock and wood, singularly picturesque, invited at an early period the reveries of superstitious seclusion and poetical fancy. It is supposed that here was an oratory, and a cell for the hermit, in Saxon times; and it is certain that a hermit dwelt in this lovely recess in the reigns of Edward III. and Henry IV. This is the spot to which the renowned Guy, Earl of Warwick, is said to have retired after his duel with the Danish Colbrond;[¹] and here his neglected countess, the fair Felicia, is reported to have interred his remains. It appears that Henry V. visited Guy's Cliff, and was so charmed with its natural beauties, and, probably, so much interested by the wild legend connected with the place, that he determined to found a chantry for two priests here. But war and an early death prevented the performance of this, among many other pious and benevolent intentions ascribed to the heroic Henry. Such a chantry was, however, founded in the first year of Henry VI. by Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick; but the chapel and some contiguous buildings were not completed till after the earl's decease. In this delightful retreat lived John Rous, the antiquary, as a chantry priest.

About the middle of the eighteenth century, this estate passed to a private gentleman, who built a handsome mansion here. But the chief attractions are the natural beauties of the grounds—as the rock, on which the house and chapel are built. Here is shown a cave, devoutly believed by neighbouring peasants to be that which Guy "hewed with his own hands," and in which he lived

Like a Palmer poore.

The chapel founded by Richard Beauchamp was a plain, substantial edifice. The founder caused to be carved from the solid rock on which this chapel abuts, a rude statue of the famous Earl Guy, about eight feet in height. It would appear, from a print in Dugdale's Warwickshire, that this figure was well preserved in the seventeenth century.

ANCIENT CROSSES IN ENGLAND.

(For the Mirror.)

"She doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours."

Shakspeare.

In former times, an idea of peculiar sanctity was annexed to crosses. They not only marked civil and ecclesiastical limits, but probably served for stations, when the bounds were visited in processions. It was a common practice for mendicants to place themselves near some of these crosses, and ask alms; whence the ancient proverb, "He begs like a cripple at a cross." Cornwall abounds with stone crosses. In churchyards, by the side of roads, and on the open downs, they remain solitary and neglected. In almost every town that had an abbey, or any other religious foundation, there was one of these structures. The monks frequently harangued the populace from these crosses. Many of them still remain, exhibiting beautiful specimens of architecture and sculpture. The most memorable and interesting objects of this kind were those which King Edward I. erected at the different stages where the corpse of Queen Eleanor rested, in its progress from Nottinghamshire to London. Mr. Gough tells us, that there were originally fifteen of these elegant structures; but only three are now remaining, which, by their peculiar beauty, as specimens of architecture and productions of art, serve to excite regret at the destruction of the others. The first of the three above-mentioned, is the cross at Geddington, about three miles from Kettering, in Northamptonshire. The second is the Queen's Cross, near Northampton. The third is the cross at Waltham, in Hertfordshire. For a further account of these crosses, see Mr. Britton's "Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain."

P. T. W.

TO R.H., ON HER DEPARTURE FOR LONDON.

(For the Mirror.)

"Alas for me! false hearts I've found, where I had deem'd them true,
And stricken hopes lie all around where'er I turn my view;
Yet it may be, when far remov'd, the voice of memory
May yet remind thee how we lov'd, with its reproving sigh."

Anonymous.

Farewell! farewell! a sad farewell!

'Tis fate's decree that we should part;

Forebodings strange my bosom tell,

That others now will pain thy heart:

If so, calm as the waveless deep,

Whereby the passing gust has blown,

Unmark'd, the eye will turn to weep

O'er days that have so swiftly flown,

Remember me—remember me,

My latest thought will be for thee.

The tale which to thee I've confest

Another ne'er shall hear again;

Nor love, that link'd me with the blest,

Be darken'd with an earthly chain.

No, as the scroll above the dead,

The dreams of parted joys will last;

There is a bliss now love has fled,

To trace this record of the past.

Then, oh! mid all remember me—

My latest thought will be for thee.

Life hath been as a cloudy day,

Yet still it hath not all been gloom,

For many a wild and broken ray

Hath cheer'd awhile my spirit's doom;

As flow'rets on a river's rim,

Whose shadows deck each passing wave,

Thought lingers on, perturb'd and dim,

Or sunbeam resting on a grave.

Remember me—remember me—

My latest thought will be for thee.

Where'er my feet may wander now,

No more awakes the slightest care;

It matters not—for still wilt thou

Be present 'mid my heart's despair.

So springs and blooms, in lonely state,

Some flow'ret on a roofless cot,

And decks with smiles, though desolate,

The gloomy stillness of the spot.

Remember me—remember me—

My latest thought will be for thee.

Though calm the eye, and still the tongue,

It needs not that the cheek be pale

To prove the heart by feelings wrung,

And brooding o'er a hopeless tale;

For calm is oft the ocean's breast,

Though 'neath its deep blue waters lie

A thousand wrecks—so sorrows rest

In still and silent misery.

Remember me—remember me—

My latest thought will be for thee.

H. P.

THE COURSE OF LOVE.

(For the Mirror.)

Go, trace the forest maze,

Or Cretan lab'rinth solve,

On Nature's myst'ries gaze,

Or Gordian knot resolve.

Tell whence the magnet's force,

The central motive scan,

Lay bare Nile's hidden source,

Earth's vast circumference span.

Results from such detail

Skill superhuman prove:

Yet powers like these would fail

To tell the course of love.

Direct the impulse fierce

Of ocean's watery sway;

When wint'ry tempests pierce,

Bind Boreas to obey.

Go, mould the fleeting cloud,

The lucid dew-drop mix,

The solar radiance shroud,

The trembling moonbeam fix.

Then bid the wand'ring star

Within the zodiac move;

'Twere task more hard by far

To guide the course of love.

Stop the meridian flight

Of Jove's proud plumy race;

Arrest the fiercest fight

When foe-men battle face.

Forbid the earth to turn.

Forbid the tides to flow,

Forbid the sun to burn,

Forbid the winds to blow.

Bid the fix'd orb of day.

Beyond his sphere to move,

Or cease th' attempt, I pray,

To stop the course of love.

T. F.

I'LL BE AT YOUR BALL

(For the Mirror.)

Ah! ce n'est pas moi qui romprait la première l'union sacrée de nos coeurs; vous le savez bien que ce n'est pas moi, et je rougirais presque, d'assurer ce qui n'est que trop certain.—Corinne, par Madame De Stael.

I'll be at your ball—dear Eliza,

Could you doubt of my wish to be there,

When ask'd by the maiden I prize a-

Bove all maidens, though e'er so fair?

Busy fancy brings back in my dreams

The walks, still enchanting, we took,

When the zephyrs scarce ruffled the streams,

No sound heard, save the murm'ring brook;

The stars we together have watched—

What pleasure these thoughts do recall!

Believe that your truly attached,

Dear Eliza, will be at your ball.

Can study those feelings estrange,

Of affection so ardent and true?

Or absence or time ever change

A heart so devoted to you?

My voice may have altered its tone,

My brow may be furrow'd by care,

But, oh, dearest girl, there are none

Possess of my heart the least share.

You say that my hair is neglected,

That my dress don't become me at all;

Can you feel surprised I'm dejected,

Since I parted from you at your ball?

I listlessly turn o'er the pages.

So fraught with amusement before

Tasso, Dante, and even the sages,

Once pleasing, are pleasing no more.

When I walk on the banks of the Mole,

Or recline 'neath our favourite tree,

As the needle is true to the pole,

So my thoughts still concentre in thee.

Old Time moves so slow, he appears,

"With age quite decrepit," to crawl;

And days seem now lengthen'd to years,

Before we shall meet—at your ball.

Daft Jamie.

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Having occasionally (during my lucubrations) marked out sundry choice excerpts, quips, and quiddities, from a variety of authors, I shall, with your permission, submit to the reader an occasional chapter, with a few original remarks, &c., which I hope will prove agreeable.

Jacobus.

POSTURE MASTERS.

It is now a-days extremely common to style the tumble-down-dick exploits or posture masters, balancers, conjurers, &c. an art. To ridicule such an abuse of the term by applying it to mere adroitness, skill in trifles, and labour-in-vain performances, Quinctilian gives us this merry instance—"Qualis illius fuit, qui grana ciceris ex spatio distante missa, in acum continue, et sine frustratione inserebat; quem cum spectasset Alexander, donasse eum dicitur leguminis modio—quod quidem praemium fuit illo opere dignissimum." Translation—Of this kind of art, was his, who, standing at a certain distance, could continually, without missing, stick a small pea upon the point of a needle; which when Alexander had witnessed, he ordered him a bushel of that grain for his trouble, a reward quite adequate to such an exploit. We have a similar story related, I think, of Charles II.: a posture master climbed up Grantham steeple, and then stood on his head upon the weathercock. The facetious monarch, after witnessing his ascent, told him he might forthwith have a patent that none should do the like but himself.

TO MAKE BUBBLE AND SQUEAK.

Published by request of the gentlemen of both Universities.

First—Take of beef, or mutton, or lamb, or veal, or any other meat, two pounds and a half, or any other quantity; be sure to keep it in salt till the saline particles have locked up all the animal juices, and rendered the fibres hard of digestion; then boil it over a turf or peat fire, in a brass kettle, covered with a copper lid, until it is over much done.

Second—Take a large turned cabbage, and boil it in a bell metal pot until it is done enough, or (if you think proper) too much.

Thirdly—Slice the meat, and souse that and the cabbage both in a frying pan together, and let them bubble and squeak over a charcoal fire for half an hour, three minutes, and two seconds.

Lastly—Devour the whole, which will not weigh more than four pounds, for a quantum sufficit; drink six pints of good, fat ale; sit, smoke, sleep, snore, and forget your book.

ADVERTISEMENT.

In defence of the two Universities.

We can assure the public that the malicious report of the Greek language being expelled from the abovenamed seats of Minerva, is entirely without foundation; there being, at this moment, many thousand volumes written in that tongue, actually extant, and quite unmolested in the several libraries.

HONEST PREJUDICES,

Or bona fide extracts from celebrated authors.

Before the conquest of this country by the Normans, the land in Norfolk was so light and fine, that the farmers usually plowed with two rabbits and a case knife!—Jones's Wonderful Changes, p. 86.—Weep at this ye who are now racking your inventive powers for improvements in agricultural implements. See what your forefathers could accomplish by means the simplest.—Risum teneatis?

There are many stories told of the craft of the fox to compass his prey, of which Ol. Magnus hath many: such as feigning the bark of a dog to catch prey near the houses; feigning himself dead to catch such animals as come to feed upon him; laying his tail upon a wasp's nest and then rubbing it hard against a tree, thus catching the wasps so killed; ridding himself of fleas by gradually going into the water with a lock of wool in his mouth, and so driving the fleas up into it and then leaving it in the water; by catching crab fish with his tail, which he saith he himself was a witness of.—Derham's Physico-Theology, book iv. chap. 11., and Ol. Mag. Hist. lib. xviii. cap. 39, 40.—Peruse this ye incredulous lectors of Baron Munch-Hausen, and Colonel Nimrod. Talk no more of the fertile genius of our Yankee brethren, but candidly admit ye are blameworthy for withholding credence to matters which rather border on the marvellous.

Had man been a dwarf he could not have been a rational creature; for he must then have had a jolt head, so there would not have been body and blood enough to supply his brain with spirits, or he must have had a small head answerable to his body, and so there would not have been brain enough for his business.—Grew's Cosmol. Sacr. book i. chap. v.

Had the calf of the leg been providentially and prominently placed before, instead of being preposterously and prejudicially placed behind, it had been evidently better; forasmuch as the human shin-bone could not then have been so easily broken,—Dr. Moreton's Beauty of the Human Structure, page 62.—What a pity it is that these two learned and self-sufficient authors, were not consulted in the formation of their own persons: doubtless they could have suggested many improvements, and would have felt all the advantages with due effect—probably they might have liked their heads to screw on and off like Saint Denis, of France, who frequently carried his under his arm.

The City of London is the largest city in the world, and the people of London the wisest—Wilson's Candid Traveller, page 42.—Mark this, ye who are levelling your leaden wit at the worthy aldermen and cits of this "large" and "wise" metropolis.

At the famous battle of Crescy, gained by Edward III., notwithstanding a vast carnage of the French, and an infinite number of prisoners, the English lost only one 'squire, three knights, and a few of inferior rank.—History of England, by Goldsmith.

At the battle of Agincourt, gained by Henry V. the French lost ten thousand men, and fourteen thousand prisoners; the English (although enfeebled by disease, destitute of provisions, and harassed by fatigue) lost only forty men in all—Ibid.—Hear these facts of ancient prowess, ye heroes of modern times; who among ye ever gained such signal advantages with losses so insignificant?—In good truth, I must admit, that even I was once inclined to cry out with Mr. Burchell, "fudge;" but the following morceaux have explained to me the (otherwise) mysterious relation:—

One Englishman can beat five Frenchmen.—Williamson's Serious Propositions, page 78.—One English man-of-war, will beat a Dutch fleet—Nebolt's Naval Expeditions, chap. iv. section 9.—Indeed! what a scandalous shame it is then to call Admiral Blake a naval hero; surely he could have been but a mere botch to make such a tough job of cutting up Van Tromp, the Dutch commander.

Though I have examined what all other authors have written on this affair with great impartiality, yet I cannot conceive that any of them have the least merit; nor do I find one man that has treated this subject sensibly, besides myself.—Smithson's Amiableness of Candour and Diffidence, page 8.—What modesty! what candour! amiable critic! doubtless your ingenuous style has obtained you a place on the shelves of the literati; and like Ovid and Horace you have secured as well as assigned yourself an immortality.

SELECT BIOGRAPHY.

MEMOIR OF BOLIVAR.

The conspicuous part which Bolivar has acted throughout the revolution in Colombia, and at the close of that in Peru, renders it imperative on us to give some account of a character, identified with so many great and extraordinary events.

Simon Bolivar was born at Caracas on the 25th of July, 1783. He lost his parents at an early age; and, in his sixteenth year, was sent to Europe to finish his education. He made the tour of France and Italy. Having married at Madrid, he embarked for Venezuela, where his wife died a few months after her arrival. Bolivar went a second time to Europe, and was present at the coronation of Napoleon. He returned to Caracas in company with Emparan, appointed captain-general of Venezuela by the central junta at Seville. Soon after the raising of the standard of independence (19th April, 1810) in that country, he was sent to solicit the protection of Great Britain. He was well received by the Marquess Wellesley, then secretary for Foreign Affairs. The British government offered its mediation between Spain and her colonies, but the offer was rejected by the court of Madrid. Bolivar returned to his own country, accompanied by General Miranda, who was placed in command of the Venezuelan troops. But the revolutionary government was too feebly organized to give efficiency to the military force. Divisions arose, and the cause of independence was on the retrograde, when the dreadful earthquake of 1812, and the subsequent invasion by the Spanish force under General Monteverde, for the time, precluded all possibility of success.

Bolivar, alleging that Miranda had betrayed his country by capitulating to Monteverde, arrested him at La Guayra. Bolivar then demanded his passport, and when taken before Monteverde, the Spanish general said that Colonel Bolivar's request should be complied with, as a reward for his having served the king of Spain by delivering up Miranda. Bolivar answered that he arrested him to punish a traitor[²] to his country, and not to serve the king. This answer had nearly included him in the general proscription; but the good offices of Don Francisco Iturbe, secretary to Monteverde, procured the passport, and Bolivar was allowed to sail for Curaçoa. From that island he went to Carthagena, where he obtained the command of a small force, with which he proceeded up the Magdalena, and having beaten parties of the royalist troops at various points on that river, he continued his march from Ocana to Cucutá, and solicited assistance from the government of Cundinamarca. Five hundred men were placed at his disposal, and with these, added to his own small party, Bolivar undertook to effect the liberation of his country. Four thousand Spaniards, under General Correa, were then on that part of the Venezuelan frontier. A division of these was beaten by Bolivar, who pursued his march to Truxillo, defeating on the way several royalist detachments.

The Spaniards from the commencement of the war, had put to death all persons whom they found with arms in their hands. The South Americans, on the contrary, gave quarter to those royalists who fell into their power. The natives consequently preferred entering the royalist ranks, feeling secure that, in case of being made prisoners, their lives would be spared. Bolivar, perceiving the great disadvantage under which he laboured, and as a retaliation for the horrid butcheries committed by the Spaniards, issued a proclamation at Truxillo, declaring, that from that time forward he should wage a war of extermination. This declaration of guerra à muerte on the part of the independents made the danger, in that respect, equal on both sides.

Bolivar, having separated his small corps into two divisions, entrusted the command of the second to the active General Rivas. Bolivar himself penetrated the Llanos, after having beaten the Spaniards at Niquitao, Carache, Varinas, Tahuana, and Torcones. He then advanced to Vitoria, within twenty leagues of Caracas, where he was met by Spanish commissioners, who sued for, and obtained, a capitulation. The conqueror entered his native city in triumph. But this did not put an end to the war. The Spaniards were faithless in the observance of the capitulation, and Monteverde, from within the walls of Puerto Cabello, fomented the discord which prevailed in the interior provinces. About this time a strong reinforcement arrived from Spain. Bolivar was obliged to evacuate Caracas; but the royalists were beaten at Viguirima, Barbula, and Las Trincheras. However, the Spanish general Cevallos had time to raise four thousand recruits in the province of Coro, which had always shown itself inimical to the cause of independence. Bolivar next gained the important battle of Araure, and repossessed himself of Caracas. On the 2nd of January, 1814, he assembled the public authorities of the city, and resigned to them the supreme authority he had exercised, and with which his triumphs had invested him. They, however, refused to admit his resignation; conferred upon him the title of Liberator of Venezuela; and named him dictator.

About this period a Spaniard, Don José Tomas Boves, succeeded in bringing about a counter-revolution in the Llanos, an immense tract of level country, which traverses the centre of Venezuela, and extends to the confines of New Granada. Boves organized a force, which consisted of men mostly chosen for their desperate character, whom he led on by promises of indiscriminate plunder, and by lavishing the greatest rewards upon the perpetrators of the most revolting atrocities. The track of these ruffians, to Calabozo, was every where marked with the blood of the aged and the defenceless. Bolivar, who had detached a part of his force in pursuit of Cevallos, had not above two thousand men left to make head against Boves, who, with nearly five times that number, had possessed himself of the fertile valleys of Aragua, and destroyed some patriot divisions sent to check his progress. Bolivar took up a position at San Mateo, in order to cover Caracas. A series of attacks, in the space of forty days, reduced the number of Bolivar's force to four hundred. Cevallos had repaired the effects of his defeat at Araure, and, reinforced by General Cagigal, had penetrated to Valencia. The patriot division of the east having defeated Boves at Bocachica, and compelled him to retire to the Llanos, and having subsequently united with the remains of Bolivar's force, marched against Cagigal and Cevallos, whose well-organized troops amounted to six thousand. These were attacked and defeated by Bolivar, who then detached the greater part of his force to reduce the province of Coro to submission, and himself marched against Boves. Bolivar was overwhelmed by numbers at La Puerta. His division dispersed, and fled to Cundinamarca. He was then obliged to abandon Caracas. The same day witnessed the affecting spectacle of several thousand inhabitants leaving their homes and property at the mercy of the ruthless spoiler, while they themselves set out to face want, disease, and death, in distant provinces.

On the 17th of August, Bolivar lost the battle of Aragua. The subsequent affairs of Maturin, Cumaná, Carupano, Guiria, Urica, and El Caris, were fought, with varying success. All being lost in the east, Bolivar next proceeded to Carthagena, and offered his services to New Granada, then agitated by discordant parties of provincialists, centralists, metropolists, federalists, royalists, and independents. A congress assembled at Tunja conferred upon Bolivar the command of the forces of New Granada. Santa Fé de Bogotá submitted, the provinces acknowledged the congress, and an effort was made to establish a constitutional form of government.

Bolivar having proposed to take the town of Santa Marta, still held by the Spaniards, he was authorized by the government of Santa Fé to procure guns, &c., from the arsenals of Carthagena. The governor of that fortress refused to furnish the necessary supplies. In order to enforce compliance, Bolivar invested Carthagena, before which he remained a considerable time, when he heard of the arrival at Margarita of General Morillo, with ten thousand Spanish troops. Upon this, Bolivar placed his own investing force at the disposal of his rival, the governor of Carthagena; and, unwilling that the cause of his country should continue to suffer from the dissention which had arisen between himself and the governor, withdrew to Jamaica. Morillo, soon afterwards, laid siege to Carthagena, which, unfortunately, in consequence of the long investment it had already sustained, was nearly destitute of provisions, Bolivar sent from Jamaica some supplies for the besieged garrison; but before they could arrive, that important fortress was in possession of the Spaniards. This enabled them to reconquer New Granada, and the blood of its citizens was made to stream from the scaffold.

At Kingston, Bolivar narrowly escaped assassination. The casual circumstance of exchanging apartments with another person, caused the murderer's dagger to be planted in the heart of a faithful follower, instead of in that of Bolivar. The author of these memoirs happened to live, for a few days, in the same boarding-house. Some officers of a British line-of-battle ship, not speaking Spanish, requested him to invite Bolivar, in their name, to dine with them. This was only a few weeks previous to the intended assassination of Bolivar.

From Jamaica, Bolivar went to Hayti, and was received at Port-au-Prince by Petion with kind hospitality, and was assisted by him as far as his means would allow.

In April, 1816, he sailed with three hundred men to Margarita, which island had lately again shaken off the Spanish yoke. He arrived at Juan Griego, where he was proclaimed supreme chief of the republic. On the 1st of June he sailed, and on the 3rd landed at Campano, where he beat nine hundred Spaniards. He then opened a communication with patriot chieftains, who had maintained themselves in isolated parties dispersed over the llanos of Cumaná, Barcelona, and the Apure. It is a curious fact, that the isolation of several of these parties was so complete, that, for many months, they did not know of any other than themselves being in arms for the delivery of their country. It was only by their coming into accidental contact that they discovered that there was more than one patriot guerilla in existence.[³] Bolivar supplied some of them with arms, and at the same time augmented his own force to a thousand men. The Spaniards assembled in superior numbers to destroy them; but Bolivar embarked, and relanded at Ocumare, with an intention of taking Caracas: great part, however, of the Spanish army having by this time returned from New Granada to Venezuela, Bolivar was obliged to re-embark for Margarita.

In 1817, he landed near Barcelona, where he collected seven hundred recruits, and marched towards Caracas; but, being worsted in an affair at Clarines, he fell back again upon Barcelona, where he shut himself up with four hundred men, and made a successful resistance against a superior force.

Bolivar received some reinforcements from the interior of the province of Cumaná, upon which he decided upon making the banks of the Orinoco the theatre of his future efforts. Having further augmented his force, and taken the necessary steps to keep alive the war in the districts on the coast, he marched to the interior, beating several small royalist parties which he encountered on his route.

Of the Spanish army which had returned from New Granada, a division, under the brave General La Torre, was destined to act against the patriots in Guayana. A division of the latter, under General Piar, having obtained a decisive victory, Bolivar was enabled to invest Angostura, and the town of old Guyana, which were successively taken on the 3rd and 18th of July.

In Angostura, Piar was found guilty, by a court-martial, of an attempt to excite a war of colour. Piar (a man of colour himself) was the bravest of the brave, and adored by his followers; but his execution stifled anarchy in the bud.

The rest of the year 1817 was actively spent in organizing a force to act against Morillo, who had lately been reinforced by two thousand fresh troops from the Peninsula, under General Canterac, then on his way from Spain to Peru. An abundant supply of arms, received from England, was sent to the patriot corps on the banks of the Apure.

(To be continued.)

LEDYARD TO HIS MISTRESS.

(For the Mirror.)

Dost wish to roam in foreign climes

Forget thy home and long past times?

Dost wish to be a wand'rer's bride,

And all thy thoughts in him confide?

Thou canst not traverse mountain seas,

Nor bear cold Lapland's freezing breeze;

Thou canst not bear the torrid heats,

Nor brave the toils a wand'rer meets;

Thou wouldst faint, dearest, with fatigue

Trav'ling the desert's sandy league.

Pale hunger with her sickly pains

Will silence thy heroic strains;

Thy heart—now warmly beats—will chill

And stop thy lover's wonted skill.

He could not see thee pine and weep

Nor could he ease thy troubled sleep—

'Twould quite unman his firm resolve,

And with grief thy love involve.

Terrenus.

ROMAN ALTAR.

(To the Editor of the Mirror.)

Enclosed I send you a drawing of a Roman votive altar, which was found in digging a cellar about six feet deep, in St. Sepulchre's Gate, Doncaster, in the year 1781. It is the oldest relic of antiquity which Doncaster has yet produced, and is of exquisite engraving and workmanship. Upon the capital, or top of the stone, a small space above the sculpture of the altar itself, is a crater or flowing bowl,[⁴] sacred to Bacchus, the god of wine; on the dexter, or right side of the altar, is a flower-pot, or cornucopiæ, with five branches in it, loaded with leaves and fruit, sacred to Ceres, or Terra-Mater, the goddess of plants; and on the sinister, or left side thereof, is a large jug or pitcher with a large handle, also sacred to Bacchus. It is about 2 feet 6-1/2 inches in height, and 1 foot in breadth at the base. The corporation employed a Mr. Richard John Tetlow, of Ferrybridge, a celebrated antiquary, to interpret the inscription, and give them his opinion on its age. They also sent it to the Antiquarian Society in London for inspection.

Interpretation of the Society.

Matribus magnis,[⁵] Nantonius[⁶] Orberthol, vota solvit lubens merito.

Translation.

To the great mothers, (goddesses,) Anthony Orberthol willingly and meritoriously has performed his vows or promises.

Interpretation of Mr. Tetlow.

Lunæ, Latonæ, Lucinæ, Matribus magnis Antonius Orbis Romani Imperator Bonis Oeis Altare. vota. solvit. lubens merito.

Translation.

To Luna, Latona, Lucina, the great good mothers, goddesses, Anthony, the emperor of the Roman empire, hath erected, or dedicated, this altar. Freely and fully he has discharged his vows and promises.

It is, reasonably enough, conjectured from several corroborative circumstances, that the altar above described is no less than 1,645 years old. One of these circumstances is its being similar in some respects to two other Roman altars which were found in England some years back, one of which is related to have been made in the year of Christ 161.

Near Sheffield. J. M. C——d.

NOTES OF A READER.

SUNSET.

Day sets in glory, and the glowing air

Seems dreaming in delight; peace reigns around,

Save where some beetle starteth here and there

From the shut flowers that kiss the dewy ground—

A burning ocean, stretching vast and far

The parting banners of the king of light,

Gleam round the temples of each living star

That comes forth in beauty with the night:

The west seems now like some illumined hall,

Where beam a thousand torches in their pride,

As if to light the joyous carnival

Held by the bright sun and his dark-robed bride,

Whose cloudy arms are round his bosom press'd,

As with her thousand eyes she woos him to his rest.

The African, a Tale.

BEES.

Alternations of torpor and animation cause greater exhaustion and loss of physical powers, than would be occasioned by a continuance of uniform torpor. This we infer from the fact, that in Russia, where the winters are uniformly cold, bees do not perish; and in the West Indies where there is perpetual verdure, they are never exhausted.

Major Rennell—clarum et venerabile nomen—now in his 87th year, possesses in full vigour, for the happiness of himself and friends, all those intellectual faculties which have so eminently distinguished his long and useful life; who, suffering little short of martyrdom, from the frequent attacks of gout, still devotes hours and days to his favourite pursuit; uniting with his studies all the playfulness and vivacity of youth.

Quarterly Review.

WAR.

War! what miseries are heaped together in the sound!--What an accumulation of curses is breathed in that one word. To us, happy in our insular position, we have, within existing memory, known chiefly of war, its pomp and circumstance alone; the gay parade, the glancing arms, the bright colours, the inspiring music—these are what we see of war in its outset;—glory, and praise, and badges of honour, these are what appear to us as its result. The favourite son, the beloved brother, he who, perhaps, is dearer still, returns to the home of his youth or of his heart, having sown danger and reaped renown. Thus do we look on war. But ask the inhabitant of a country which has been the seat of war, what is his opinion of it. He will tell you that he has seen his country ravaged, his home violated, his family —— But no! the tongue recoils from speaking the horrors and atrocities of war thus brought into the bosom of a peaceful home. All the amenities and charities of domestic life are outraged, are annihilated. All that is dearest to man; all that tends to refine, to soften him—to make him a noble and a better being—all these are trampled under foot by a brutal soldiery—all these are torn from his heart for ever! He will tell you that he detests war so much that he almost despises its glories; and that he detests it because he has known its evils, and felt how poorly and miserably they are compensated by the fame which is given to the slaughterer and the destroyer, because he is such!

Tales of Passion.

THE NEWSPAPERS.

These square pieces of paper are the Agoras of modern life. The same skilful division of labour which brings the fowl ready trussed to our doors from the market, brings also an abstract of the

Votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus,

which agitate the great metropolis, and even opinions, ready prepared, to the breakfast tables of our remotest farms, ere the controversial warmth has had time to cool. In the centre of this square, where you observe the larger character, a public orator, "vias et verba locans," takes his daily stand. One makes his speech in the morning, and another reserves his for the evening; a third class, either disposed to take less trouble, or, finding it convenient to construct their speeches from fragments of the daily orations, harangue once in two or three days; while a fourth waylay the people in their road to visit the temples on our hebdomadal festivals. But cast your eyes to another part of these our artificial forums, and observe the number of small divisions which fill up the space. There are stalls of merchandize. The ancient venders must have been noisy, and a frequent cause of annoyance to political speakers; but here the hawkers of wet and dry goods, the hawkers of medicine, the hawkers of personal services, the hawkers of husbands and wives, (for among us these articles are often cried up for sale,) and lastly, the hawkers of religions, moral, and political wisdom, all cry out at once, without tumult or confusion, yet so as to be heard in these days through the remotest corners of these islands.... If a peculiarly bloody murder has been tried, or if some domestic intrigue has produced a complicated love story, however offensive in its details, you will find our reading crowd stationary in that quarter, to enjoy the tragic stimulants of terror and pity. We have also a modest corner of the square appropriated to the use of our posts; but like Polydorus's ghost, they generally utter doleful soliloquies, which no one will stop to hear.

London Review.

BEAUTY.

It is vain to dispute about the matter; moralists may moralize, preachers may sermonize about it as much as they please; still beauty is a most delightful thing,—and a really lovely woman a most enchanting object to gaze on. I am aware of all that can be said about roses fading, and cheeks withering, and lips growing thin and pale. No one, indeed, need be ignorant of every change which can be rung upon this peal of bells, for every one must have heard them in every possible, and impossible, variety of combination. Give time, and complexion will decay, and lips and cheeks will shrink and grow wrinkled, sure enough. But it is needless to anticipate the work of years, or to give credit to old Time for his conquests before he has won them. The edge of his scythe does more execution than that of the conqueror's sword: we need not add the work of fancy to his,—it is more than sufficiently sure and rapid already.

Tales of Passion.

PRE-AUX-CLERCS.

In 1559, the most frequented promenade in Paris was the Pré-aux-Clercs, situated where a part of the Faubourg St. Germain is at present. The students of the university were generally in favour of the reformed religion, and not only made a profession of it, but publicly defended its principles. They had been in the habit of meeting at this place for several years, and the monks of the Abbey St. Victor having refused to let them assemble in the Pré-aux-Clercs, a serious affair sprung out of the refusal, and several rencounters took place, in which blood was shed; the students, being the most numerous, carried their point, the monks resigned the field to them, and the Pré-aux-Clercs was more than ever frequented. It became the grand rendezvous of all the Protestants, who would sing Marot's psalms during the summer evenings; and such numbers giving confidence, many persons declared themselves Protestants, whose rank had hitherto deterred them from such a step. Among such, the most eminent was Anthony of Bourbon, first prince of the blood, and, in right of his wife, king of Navarre.

Browning's History of the Hugonots.

LOVE.

When she learned the vocabulary, she did not find that admiration meant love; she did not find that gratitude meant love; she did not find that habit meant love; she did not find that approbation meant love; but in process of time she began to suspect that all these put together produced a feeling very much like love.

Rank and Talent.