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-29 He went to the deer of Mora.The daughter of Conloch would try try his love. She clothed her white ides with his armour, and strode from the cave of Ronan! He thought it was his foe. His heart beat high. His colour changed, and darkness dimmed his eyes -He drew the bow.-The arrow flew.Galvina fell in blood!-He ran with wildness in his steps, and called the daughter of Conloch.-No answer in the lonely rock. Where art thou, O my love?' He saw, at length, her heaving heart beating around the feathered arrow. O Conloch's daughter,

is it thou? He sunk upon her breast.

I The hunters found the hapless pair. He afterwards walked the hill-but many and silent were his steps round the dark dwelling of his love.The fleet of the ocean came. He fought; the strangers fled. →He searched for death along the field. But who could slay the mighty Comal!-He threw away his dark-brown shield. An arrow found his manly breast. He sleeps with his loved Galvina, at the noise of the sounding surge !-Their green tombs are seen by the mariner, when he bounds o'er the waves of the north."

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The Political Motives of the Author of Don Roderick, unable to doom to obscurity Sir John Moore!

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We are are not very apt to quarrel with a poet for his politics; and really supposed it next to impossible that Mr Scott should have given us any ground of dissatisfaction on this score, in the management of his present theme. Lord Wellington and his fellow soldiers have well deserved the laurels they have won; nor is there one British heart, we believe, that will not feel proud and grateful for all the honours with which British genius can invest their names. In the praises which Mr Scott has bestowed, therefore, all his readers will sympathise; but for those which he has withheld, there are some that will not

so readily forgive him: And in our eyes, we will confess, it is a sin not easily to be expiated, that in a poem written substantially for the purpose of commemo rating the brave who have fought or fallen in Spain and Portugal, and written by a Scotchman, there should be no mention of the name of Moore !of the only Commander-in-chief who has fallen in this me morable contest;-of a commander who was acknow ledged as the model and pattern of a British soldier, when British soldiers stood most in need of such an example; and was, at the same time, distinguished not less for every manly virtue and generous affection, than for skill and gallantry in his profession, A more pure or a more exalted character certainly has not yet appeared upon that scene which Mr Scott has sought to illustrate with the splendor of his genius; and it is with a mixture of shame and indignation, that we find him grudging a single ray of that pro fuse and readily yielded glory to gild the grave of his lamented countryman. To offer a lavish tribute of praise to the living, whose task is still incomplete, may be generous and munificent ;-but to departed merit, it is due in strictness of justice. Who will deny that Sir John Moore was all that we have now said of him?—or who will doubt that his untimely death in the hour of victory would have been eagerly seized upon by an impartial poet, as a noble theme for generous lamentation and eloquent praise? But Mr. Scott's political friends have fancied it their interest to calumniate the memory of this illustrious and accomplished person; and Mr Scott has permitted the spirit of party to stand in the way, not only of poetical justice, but of patriotic and generous feeling.

It is this for which we grieve, and feel ashamed: -this hardening and deadening effect of political animosities, in cases where politics should have nothing to do;-this apparent perversion, not merely of the judgment, but the heart;-this implacable resentment, which was not only with the living, but with the dead:-and thinks it reason for defrauding a departed warrior of his glory, that a political antagonist

has been zealous in his praise. These things are lamentable; and they cannot be alluded to without some emotions of sorrow and resentment; but they affect not the fame of him on whose account these emotions are suggested. The wars of Spain, and the merits of Sir John Moore, will be commemorated in a more impartial and a more imperishable record than the Vision of Don Roderick; and his humble monument in the citadel of Corunna, will draw the tears and the admiration of thousands, who concern not themselves about the exploits of his more fortunate associates.

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Edinburgh Review.'17

There seems to be little difficulty in inflecting with propriety any of the sentences of this justly merited tribute to the merit of Sir John Moore. The sentence, And in our eyes we will confess, may, if the connection is noticed, be very easily and properly inflected. The rising slide ends at Scotchman. The latter part of the sentence, the answer to the former, and embracing. the falling inflection, is compound. No mention, it is evident, is understood-no mention of the only Commander-in-chief; no mention of the only commander--a commander who was at the same time. Some parts of it at least may be read with the tone of anger accompanied with indignation. Name of Moore, and the following particulars might be read even with the rising inflection, on the ground of something being understood.

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risdt A Remarkable Instance of Friendship. anointeuil aid to v

1,

WHEN Damon was sentenced by Dionysius of Syracuse to die on a certain day, he begged permission, inthe interim, to retire to his own country, to set the affairs of his disconsolate family in order. This the kingrintended peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impossible condition of his procuring someone to remain as hostage for his return,under equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the conditions, and did not wait for an application upon the part of Damon; he instantly offered himself as security for his friend, which being accepted, Dad monoyas immediately set at liberty. The king and i

all the courtiers were astonished at this action; and, therefore, when the day of execution drew near, his majesty had the curiosity to visit Pythias, in his confinement. After some conversation on the subject of friendship, in which the king delivered it as his opinion, that self-interest was the sole mover of human action; as for virtue, friendship, benevolence, love of one's country, and the like, he looked upon them as terms invented by the wise, to keep in awe and impose upon the weak. "My Lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, " I would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of his honour. He cannot fail therein, my Lord; I am as confident of his virtue as I am of my own existence. But I pray, I beseech the gods to preserve the life and integrity of my Damon together. Oppose him, ye winds! prevent the eagerness and impatience of his honourable endeavours, and suffer him not to arrive, till, by my death, I shall have redeemed a life a thousand times of more consequence, of more value, than my own; more estimable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents, to his friends, to his country. O leave me not to die the worst of deaths in my Damon." Dionysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of these sentiments, by the manner in which they were uttered: he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth; but it served rather to perplex than undeceive him. The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked, amidst the guards, with a serious, but satisfied air, to the place of execution. Dionysius was already there; he was exalted on a moving throne, that was drawn by six white horses, and sat pensive and attentive to the prisoner. Pythias came; he vaulted lightly on the scaffold, and, beholding for some time the apparatus of death, he turned with a placid countenance, and addressed the spectators: "My prayers are heard," he cried, "the gods are propitious; you know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. Damon could not come; he could not conquer impossibilities; he will be here to-morrow,

and the blood which is shed to-day, shall have ransomed the life of my friend. O could I erase from your bosoms every doubt, every mean suspicion, of the honour of the man for whom I am about to suffer, I should go to my death even as I would to my bridal. Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that my friend will be found noble; that his truth is unimpeachable; that he will speedily prove it; that he is now on his way, hurrying on, accusing himself, the adverse elements, and the gods; but I hasten to prevent his speed: executioner! do your office." As he pronounced the last words, a buzz began to rise among the remotest of the people-a distant voice was heard-the crowd caught the words, and, "stop, stop the execution," was repeated by the whole assembly. A man came at full speed-the throng gave way to his approach: he was mounted on a stead of foam: in an instant, he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly embraced. "You are safe," he cried, “ you are safe, my friend, my beloved friend; the gods be praised, you are safe. I now have nothing but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those reproaches which I gave myself, for having endangered a life so much dearer than my own." Pale, cold, and half speechless, in the arms of his Damon, Pythias replied, in broken accents-" Fatal haste! -Cruel impatience!-What envious powers have wrought impossibilities in your favour?-But I will not be wholly disappointed. Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you." Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with astonishment. His heart was touched; he wept; and, leaving his throne, he ascended the scaffold. "Live, live, ye incomparable pair!" he cried, "ye have borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue! and that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live renowned: and, Oh! form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a friendship."

Fool of Quality.

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