With bliss so sweet, 'twas pain. He dreamed him dying, A moment pausing, in its passing sinking, Feeling a God was nigh, yet could not see Bright Dian, for the tree Shadowed her still, nor could he hear her sighing For the low ripple of the lake that played Adown the grassy glade. XLIII. Then, like the music of a pipe low uttered When the dim-day is drawing to its close, Floating around him, flows A cadence, gentle as though it were muttered A mile or more away,-" Endymion, whyWhy hast thou sought mine eye? XLIV. He turned amazed and saw the fountain leaping, For darkness veiled the spot; While all the while the fragrant scent was steeping XLV. Then sheeted shadows of old stories, buried Told how of Old were demons, who had hurried XLVI. He turned to fly, but feared the demon's anger And turned to fly again; but now the languor XLVII. Swell over swell it rose as though the blossoms Upheaved, like odorous sighs from maidens' bosoms; He lay in dreams along the odorous blooms, When, from the willow's glooms, Her rosy zone unbound, her large eyes drinking Rapturous joy, with softest love entranced, Dian in light advanced. LVII. Orange and amethyst, emerald and yellow, It rose and then a cadence sweet and mellow Philadelphia, April, 1844. LETTERS OF PLINY THE YOUNGER. FISH STORY; CHRISTIANS, &c. (Translated for the Sou. Lit. Mess.) Phil stoward TO CANINIUS. our hero, but less boldly than before. The dolphin re-appears at his previous hour, and again approaches the boy, who, with his comrades, scampers to the shore in great alarm. The dolphin, as if inviting their return, leaps from the water, dives, rolls over and displays various amusing gambols and fantastic evolutions. A similar scene was exhibited the next and the third and many successive days, till these hardy sea-bred boys began to be ashamed of their fears. They approach him therefore, swim round him, and speak to him. At length they venture to touch him, and then, emboldened by his gentleness, play with him familiarly. Foremost among these is our hero, who swimming up to him, scrambles on his back, and is borne about over the lake by his sea friend, who he thinks has learned to recognize and love him, and whom he loves warmly in return. Neither fears or is feared, and confidence and kindness increase on both sides. Other boys accompany them, swimming on either hand, giving advice and encouragement. And strange to tell, another dol I lately chanced to hear a true story, which is phin attended the first, but as a companion and very like a fiction, and worthy of your own play-spectator merely, for he neither acted like him, nor ful and romantic imagination. I heard it at the permitted such familiarities, but came and weat supper table, when many wonderful tales were told with his companion as the boys did with theirs. by various persons present. The story is well It appears farther (what is hardly credible, but as attested-but what cares a poet for authority? yet true as the rest) that this dolphin, the boys' playmy informant's word is a sufficient voucher even for mate and friend, suffered himself to be drawn out the most scrupulous historian. There is on the upon the beach, and waxing hot and dry on the coast of Africa a colony called Hippo; and near sand, would roll back into the water. It also apit a small navigable lake, with an estuary proceed- pears that Octavius Avitus, the proconsul's legate, ing from it like a river, through which the sea moved by some weak superstition, poured ointment advances, or recedes with the advancing or rece-over him as he lay; on which the dolphin, not ding tide. To this lake persons of every age used to such civilities, and disliking the strange resort to fish, sail or swim, as gain or pleasure odor, bolted hastily into the deep; nor re-appeared urges; and especially boys, who come to seek di- for many days, when he came back apparently version here in play time. Among these, emula- sick and dispirited. His health and strength retion in swimming runs high; and he is victor who turned however, and with them his frolicksome mood leaves both the shore and his competitors far be- and wonted kind offices. Meanwhile, governors hind. In one such contest, a certain boy, more from the neighboring provinces, attended by their intrepid than the rest, ventured forth far in advance suites, came to see the wondrous sight; and their of his comrades. Here he was met by a dolphin, protracted visits seriously impaired the means of this which played round him in every direction, swim- small commonwealth and at length the place ming sometimes before, sometimes behind, and itself, once quiet and sequestered, became the scene sometimes on either side. At length the fish passed of crowds and tumults. To remedy these evils, under and took him on his back, then replaced him secret orders were given that the dolphin should in the water, and then taking him up again, first be killed. In what a sublime and pathetic elegy carried the trembling boy out into the deep, but will you celebrate his death! Yet the tale needs afterwards returning, restored him to the land and no addition or embellishment, but requires merely to his wondering companions. The fame of this that the truth be fully told. incident spreads through the colony; and crowds assembling, gaze at the boy as a prodigy, and inquire, hear, and in turn, relate his wondrous adventure. Next day they blockade the shore, watching anxiously the sea or whatever resembled it. The boys swim as usual, and among them * "Prospectant mare et si quid est mare simile”—an affected phrase, referring doubtless to the lake. Farewell. * The dolphin of the ancients appears to have been what we call a porpus,—an animal belonging not properly to the fishes, but to the mammalia, all which have lungs com structed for breathing atmospheric air; and therefore the story of this dolphin's having lain upon the beach without inconvenience is not absolutely impossible, however n probable it may be deemed. TO THE EMPEROR. direction, their conventicles were prohibited. In It is part of my religion, my lord, to refer all this uncertainty, I deemed it necessary to force questions of difficulty to you; for who can better the truth even by tortures from two maids called resolve my doubts or instruct my ignorance? I deaconesses;* but I discovered nothing but a dehave never been present when christians were tried, praved and excessive superstition, and therefore, and therefore know neither the character of the delaying the prosecution, I hastened to consult you. offence nor the proper measure of punishment. The subject indeed appears worthy of consultation, have deliberated much whether to make any dis- especially when the number of persons accused is tinction of ages, or to deal with those of tenderest considered; for many of every rank and of both years, as with the more robust; whether pardon sexes have already been and will be endangered by such accusations. Nor has the distemper pershould be offered to repentance, or whether return from error should profit him nothing who has once vaded cities alone, but villages and even country been a christian; whether the name itself detached neighborhoods have been infected. Yet it would from guilt, or guilt cohering with the name, is to seem that the evil is not irrremediable, since it apbe punished. Meantime, with respect to those pears that the temples, once almost desolate, bebrought before me as christians, I have pursued the gin to be frequented again, and their solemn serfollowing method. I inquired of them whether vices resumed though long disused, and victims they were christians; if they confessed it, I re-every where sold, of which, till recently, scarce a peated the question a second and a third time, purchaser could be found. And hence it is easy to threatening punishment; and if they persisted, I conceive what a multitude might be reclaimed if ordered them to be led forth. For I did not doubt a place were given to repentance. THE REPLY. that, whatever such confession might imply, their perverse and inflexible obstinacy certainly merited punishment. There were others possessed with the same madness, whom, because they are Roman You have pursued the proper course, my Secuncitizens, I have determined to send to the capitol. dus, in declining the cases of those brought before Meantime, many classes of men have incurred the you as christians; for no judicial rule can be given same guilt, for in this, as in other cases, the vice is having a certain definite scope and applicable unidiffused by opposition and debate. A bill of accu-versally. Make no inquisition for them: if brought sations has been preferred anonymously, containing before you and convicted, let them be punished; the names of many who denied that they were provided, however, that if any deny themselves or had ever been christians, to prove which, repeat- christians, and make it manifest in actual deed, that ing after me, they invoked the gods, and kneeling is, by offering prayers to our gods, they shall obbefore your image, which, for that purpose I had ordered to be placed among the statues of the deities, they worshipped with wine and frankincense, and, moreover, blasphemed Christ;-none of which things, it is said, can they ever be compelled to do who are christians in reality. I there* "— ex duabus ancillis quæ ministre dicebantur." fore thought it proper to discharge them. Some In the first book of Tertullian's Apology, amid much of those designated by the informer first confessed themselves christians and then denied it; others stern and bitter declamation, he thus comments on this said that they had been formerly, but had since rescript of Trajan.-"But we find inquisition against us ceased to be, some three years before, others still forbidden; for when Pliny governed a province, he conearlier, and a few as much as twenty years back. All these worshipped your image and the statues of the gods, and also cursed Christ. They affirmed, however, that their crime or error consisted solely in this, that they were accustomed to assemble on a stated day before light, and among themselves alternately, to chant a hymn to Christ as to a god, obliging themselves by oath, not to any crime, but to avoid theft, robbery and adultery, and never to tain pardon by repentance, whatever their forepast conduct may have been. For the nameless informer, let no charges made anonymously be heard in any criminal trial; for the precedent is most pernicious, and belongs not to our age.† * demned certain christians to death and attainted others of rank, and then, alarmed by the number, inquired of the emperor what he should do with the rest; declaring that, besides their obstinate refusal to sacrifice, he had discovered nothing in regard to their religion, except that they held meetings before day, at which they sung to Christ as to a god, and bound themselves to observe a discipline forbidding murder, adultery, fraud, falsehood and other crimes. Then Trajan wrote back that this sect should not be search break their faith, or fail to restore a pledge when ed out, yet punished if brought before him. What a sendemanded. These rites ended, they would disperse, and afterwards reassemble to take food, promiscu-inquisition, as against innocent men, yet directs them to be ously indeed, but inoffensively; and even this they have ceased to do since my edict, in which, by your 'Carmenque Christo quasi deo dicere secum invicem." tence! contradictory by a sort of necessity! He forbids punished as if guilty. He is both clement and cruel, at once spares and persecutes. Why incur inevitable blame by such a dilemma! If guilty, why not search them out? If innocent, why not discharge them?" Notices of New Works. THE POETICAL WORKS OF WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED: now first collected; By Rufus W. Griswold- culty. Even now he informs us that there are probably as After quoting "School and School Fellows," "And now an old favorite in a different vein, to show that Praed could write otherwise than in epigrams. We think the following are not generally understood to be his by those "who admire them: We confess to a partiality for what in Charles the Second's reign, were called ". copies of verses. It often happens that in poetry, as in affairs, the "attempt confounds the deed;" in other words, the more effort the less success, the greater the design the more ineffective the execution. Some of the most clever stanzas in English Literature have been the least premeditated. We are not advocating that easy writing which has been justly called the hardest reading; but simply maintain that when by culture and native powers, a bard is fitted for his vocation, the more freely he yields his mind to the inspiration of scenes and events, the happier often will be the result. There has been enough of formal and artistical verse of late, to make a volume of off-hand rhyme very acceptable. This is the characteristic of Praed, whose numerous occasional poems have just been collected and arranged by that indefatigable literary purveyor, Rufus W. Griswold, and published in an elegant volume, by Henry G. Langley of New York. Every one is familiar with Praed's vivacious epistles, half-frivolity, and half-sentiment, yet withal so very natural. To these are added "Lillian" and three or four other fanciful poems, remarkable for curious invention, and overflowing both with humor and pathos. It is not requisite for a reader to be either imaginative or enthusiastic, to admire Praed. He appeals to our every-day capacities, and entertains the man of the world not less than the romantic school girl. Of this work, the New York Tribune, whose feuilleton, as it were, often contains what is well worth adopting, thus highly speaks: "The Editor and Publisher have here done the public a real service. Especially those who with us were boys fifteen to twenty years ago and in their leisure hours, hung enraptured over the pages of the British Reviews and Magazines, then radiant with the scintillations of Genius from the pens of MACAULAY, JEFFREY, LAMB, HUNT, HOOD, HAZLITT, PRAED, MAGINN, Mrs. HEMANS, Miss LANDON, &c. and whose memory still treasures the delight with which they first quaffed the sparkling wit of Lillian,' the Every Day Character,' Palinodia,' Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine,' &c., &c., will thank them fervently. In the way of epigrammatic point and richness, pleasant satire, and quiet buinor, varied by occasional flashes of true poetic feeling, English Literature has scarcely a superior to Praed. TIME'S CHANGES. "I saw her once-so freshly fair Her cheek's fine hue divinely glowing- And in her young step's fairy lightness, "I saw her twice-an altered charm- The very image of its mother; Her thoughtless, sinless look had banished, Of girlhood's balmy morn had vanished; Lay something softer, fonder, deeper, "I saw her thrice-Fate's dark decree As even my reveries portrayed her; The retrospect was scarcely bitter; That every louder mirth is folly- A stillness-as of sunset streaming- "A last time-and unmoved she lay, As moved she in her matron duty, "Of Praed personally little can be added to what his readers will have inferred from his Poems. He was born in or near London, of an opulent and respectable family; he was first educated at Eton, with John Moultrie, H. N. Coleridge, and other boys of future eminence, where he was principal editor of The Etonian,' one of the best College Magazines ever published. From Eton he went to Cambridge, where he ran a brilliant career, winning many of the honors of that renowned University, On leaving Trinity College he was connected with Macaulay and other young men of rare talent in the conduct of Knight's Quarterly Magazine.' After the discontinuance of that work, he wrote for the New Monthly and the Annuals, and was in Parliament, and deemed a rising member for some years before his death, which occurred July 15th, 1839. His age was about 40, and he died a bachelor. No collection of his works has ever been made in England, owing, we understand, to some dispute respecting the copy-right; and to the industry and taste of Mr. Griswold is the public The general resemblance between this and s indebted for a most delightful book, of which the materials much and deservedly admired song of Haynes were widely scattered, and only to be obtained with diffi- 'Bayly is almost too striking to be a mere coinci A happy mother, in the blaze Of ripened hope, and sunny beauty I felt the chill-I turned aside Bleak Desolation's cloud came o'er me, Whose wrecks in darkness swam before me!" dence. That great Lyrist, however, deserves no little praise for his exquisite condensation and embodiment of these lines of Praed. Besides the general similarity, there are some features of special resemblance." Another work issued by the same publishers, commends itself on different grounds from Praed's. We allude to the Poems of Mrs. Ellis. The Prose works of this lady are very popular, and among the most useful of the day. The present and last volume comprises her fugitive poetry. Her muse is neither bold nor original, but pure, religious and calm. Her admirers will greet these effusions with cordiality. SEATSFIELD. "Life in the New World," translated from the German, by Hebbe and Mackay. New-York, J. Winchester & Co. 1844. YOUNG KATE; OR THE RESCUE. By a Kentuckian. Harper and Brothers. 1844. We do not pretend to judge of this work solely upon its abstract merits; for we would not, if we could, destroy that medium of State pride and respect for its excellent author, through which we view it. The scene is laid principally in Western Virginia, which was then comparatively unsettled. The various classes of its inhabitants are well depicted, and the romantic and sublime scenery of the New River graphically described. The wild hunter, the Virthe counterfeiter, the delicate maiden, the daring youth, are ginia gentleman, the land-shark, the murderous squatter, all portrayed and linked together by chains of pleasing fiction. The work by no means lacks incident, but there is great want of artistical skill in interweaving and combiningin plot and counterplot. Since the notice of this Germanico-American author in our last number, we have had a better opportunity of forming a correct estimate of his merits. They seem to have been greatly overrated; and some of our journals have misled the public taste. It requires considerable patience to read some portions of his American sketches; there is a general indistinctness in his narrations, and a confusion in his dialogues. We have already stated, that there was to his wild lands in Kanawha, which his debtors have given Mr. Ballenger, a broken merchant of Alexandria, retires consistency in his characters; but he is almost entirely him as his security. Of their value he is entirely ignorant; destitute of the high but necessary faculty of grouping the and Isaac Foster, a general land agent, much confided in, various parts and personages of the scenes which he underforms a deep plot to defraud him of them, and at the same takes to portray. Many of the incidents which he uses as time, pays his addresses to an only daughter, betrothed characteristic of American Society, are not only not new to us, but have been told and retold, in prose and verse, and with a gang of counterfeiters, who greatly annoy an honest to a young Virginian, then in Europe. Foster is in league orally; often in far better style. This is particularly the case with some of his hits at the Yankees. Who has not Ben Bramble, a hunter, tries to excite Mr. B.'s suspicions pedler, that sold his wares in that section. The faithful beard of the impossibility of getting a direct answer from of Foster, but Foster's insinuating address in great meaJonathan? Many a better illustration of this has been given sure allays them. Before Mr. B., however, closes the dethan in Seatsfield; and yet the evasions of the Yankee, sired contract with Foster, he despatches his son into the whom Howard and Richards met one night, in the West, neighboring State of Kentucky, with letters to some of his have been quoted as something superior. There is a story friends, to inquire into the value of his extensive lands. of a Yankee pedler, who hired a negro to let a box fall or He is hospitably entertained by a Mr. Hugh Terrell, (who, his leg, that the pedler might recommend his unrivalled salve, by instantly curing it. The pretended groans of cuffie we learn from the Louisville Journal, is Hubbard Taylor, and the whole scene are ridiculous, not ludicrous. This one of our own ancestry,) from whom he obtains much same pedler is to be found in one of the works of the dis. valuable information. He ascertains that the value of the lands is enormous, makes sales, which greatly relieve the tinguished Southern Novelist, Mr. Simms. In Guy Rivers," he is called Jared Bunce; in Seatsfield, Jared pressing necessities of his father, and elate with joy, returns Bundell-scarcely a change of name. to his home, unconscious of the danger that had threatened Besides, Bunce and Bundell both cheated the good people with their worthless his life, from one of Foster's baffled emissaries. In the mean time Foster's suit is rejected; the pedler become still coffee-pots, and, by a strange coincidence, assign the same reason for their worthlessness. (Life in New World, part more troublesome, is suddenly slain near the residence of Mr. 2, p. 64-5. Guy Rivers, vol. 1, 3rd edition, p. 71.) Seatsfield is said to be a "native American." He is certainly much indebted to our native writers, and a greater part of his skill is shown in destroying the traces of those upon whom he has laid his hands. He borrows the general air of his sketches of the early French settlers in the S. West, from Judge Hall's popular writings. He is essentially light and sketchy, not creative. There is some force and impersonation in his descriptions. But they remind one of the liberty which former European writers have taken in the wild forests of America, when they wished to indulge their imaginations in their Rousseau-like admiration of Nature. " Our public have never been so favorably prepared for the advent of any Literary worthy, as that of Seatsfield; except the propria persona reception of the "American Notes." The public admiration of the former is likely to be checked, as it was in the case of the latter, though from far different * "She wore a wreath of roses." Ballenger, and the circumstances are so strong that Mr. B. is arrested and imprisoned for trial, at Lewisburg. His daughter left alone and disconsolate, wanders on the brink of the river, where her shoe is found, and at the same time old Tom, a favorite with the reader, is almost crazed with her bonnet seen floating on the stream. The faithful negro, grief. He dives in the relentless waters until he is exhausted, but finds no body. William returns, learns this is soon on his way to old Virginia, where he employs Mr. dread intelligence, hastens to the arms of his father. He Wickham and other eminent counsel. The time for the trial arrives; and the prisoner is arraigned. The witnesses are sworn and examined and the fate of the accused seems sealed. Just then, the lost daughter rushes into the arms of her constant lover. The character and designs of Foster of her father; and soon after, she is folded in the embrace are exposed-he is branded as the murderer. He had insti gated a reckless, but not abandoned youth, to strike the honest pedler, for charging him with circulating counterfeit money. The young man was drunk; Foster killed the |