NORTH. What a difference, James, between the din of twenty little waterfalls, that absolutely seem pursuing one another away down the glen, and as many hackney coaches jolting along a street! A composure in all faces and figures that you meet going out to work or coming in from it—or sitting or walking about the house! Quiet without dulness-without languor-peace! There the gloaming is indeed pensive-each star as it rises sparkles contentment—and the moon is felt to belong more especially to this one valley, most beautiful of all the valleys of this earth. Not an action of all my life-not a word I ever uttered-not a tale, or poem, or article, or book in two, three, or four volumes, that I ever wrote-not one of all the panegyrics, anathemas, blessings, curses, prayers, oaths, vows, and protestations, ever pronounced, denounced, and announced anent me, known to one single dweller in all the vale! There am I strictly anonymous. That crutch is as the crutch of any ordinary rheumatic-and I, James, have the unspeakable satisfaction of feeling myselfa Cypher. SHEPHERD. What are ye hummin' at, sir. You're no gaun to sing? NORTH. Why does the sun shine on me, O'tis no thy frown I fear- Ladies fair hae smiled on me- On the sea the moonbeams play- SHEPHERD. Some auld fragmentary strain, remindin' him, nae doubt, o' joys and sorrows lang ago! He has a pathetic vice-but sing what tune he may, it still slides awa' into Stroud-water. NORTH. Oh, James! a dream of the olden time SHEPHERD. Huts! huts! I wush you maunna be gettin' rather a wee fuddled-sirhafflins fou-Preserve me, are ye greetin'? The whusky's maist terrible strong -and I suspect has never been chrissened. It's time we be aff. Oh! what some o' them he has knowted wud gie to see him in this condition !, But there's the wheels o' the cotch. Or is't a fire-engine? (Enter AMBROSE to announce the arrival of the coach.) Dinna look at him, Mr Ambrose-he's gotten the toothach-and likewise some ingon in his een. This is aye the way wi' him noo-he fa's aff a' on a sudden and begins greetin' at naething, or at things that's raither amusin' as itherwise. There's mony thousan' ways o' gettin' fou-and I ken nae mair philosophical employment, than, in sic cityations, the study o' the varieties o' human character. Son James NORTH. SHEPHERD. Pardon, Father-'twas but a jeest. I've kent you noo the better pairt o' twenty years-and never saw I thae bricht een-that bricht brain obscured-for, wi' a' our daffin'—our weel-timed daffin'—our dulce est desipere in loco— that's Latin, you ken—we return to our hame, or our lodgings, as sober as Quakers-and as peacefu', too,-weel-wishers, ane and a', to the hail human race-even the verra Whugs. NORTH. Sometimes, my dear Shepherd, my life from eighteen to twenty-four is an utter blank, like a moonless midnight-at other times, oh! what a refulgent day! Had you known me then, James, you would SHEPHERD. No hae liked you half as weel's I do noo-for then, though you was dootless tall and straucht as a tree, and able and willin' baith to fecht man, doug, or deevil, wi' een, tongue, feet, or hauns, yet, as dootless, you was prooder nor Lucifer. But noo that you're bent down no that muckle, just awee, and your "lyart haffits wearing thin and bare," sae pleesant, sae cheerfu', sae fu' o' allooances for the fauts and frailties o' your fellow-creturs, provided only they proceed na frae a bad heart-it's just perfeckly impossible no to love the wise, merry auld man NORTH. James, I wish to consult you and Mr Ambrose about the propriety and prudence of my marrying SHEPHERD. Never heed ye propriety and prudence, sir, in mairrying, ony mair than ither folk. Mairry her, sir-mairry her-and I'll be godfather-for the predestined mither o' him will be an Episcopaulian-to wee Christopher. NORTH. As the Reis Effendi well observes to the interpreters of the Three Powerswe must not name a child till we have ascertained its sex.-But, Ambrose, open the Ear of Dionysius. (MR AMBROSE opens a secret door, and flings it open.) SHEPHERD. Mr Gurney-the short-haun writer! Dinna be frighted, sir. What a cozy contrivance! A green-baized table o' his ain-twa wax cawnles-a nice wee bit ingle-and a gae big Jug! NORTH. Not a whisper, James, that Mr Gurney does not catch. I will explain the principle to you at our first leisure. You know the Elements of Acoustics? SHEPHERD. Cow-steeks,-Cow's horns. What do you mean? Let me try your toddy, Mr Gurney. Oh, man! but it's strong. Good night, sir; dinna steer till ye extend. Come awa', Mr North-Awmrose, rax him ower the crutch. NORTH. What a hobbletehoy I am, James-Allons. But hark ye, James-are you the author of the "Relief Meeting?" No? I wish I knew how to direct a letter to him about his excellent article. Let us off to Southside-and sup with Tickler. GLEE,-For Three Voices. Fall de rall de, Fall, lall, lall de, Fall de lall de, Fall, lall le, &c. [Exeunt Ambo et Ambrose. Printed by Ballantyne and Company, Edinburgh. EDINBURGH MAGAZINE No. CXXXV. FEBRUARY, 1828. VOL. XXIII Contents. FRITHIOFYA SWEDISH POEM, BY ESAIS TEGNER, BISHOP OF WEXIO, 137 LETTERS FROM THE PENINSULA. No. II. THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA, 183 MR WILMOT HORTON AND EMIGRATION, 191 197 THE COUNTRY BANKS AND THE BANK OF ENGLAND. No. II. 214 252 POSTSCRIPT DICTATED ON THE SPUR OF THE OCCASION TO A PRINTER'S 256 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD, No. 17, prince's street, EDINBURGH ; AND T. CADELL, strand, LONDON; To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed. SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM. PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH. HAD the Foreign Quarterly Review* no other claim upon the gratitude and good-will of the reading public, it might, perhaps, safely found one on having drawn its attention, by a lofty, though by no means exaggera ted, encomium, to the beautiful Swedish poem of " Frithioff;" which, no longer locked up, as it unfortunately was, in its own soft yet sonorous dia lect, from all save its native Scandinavians, has lately afforded, in more than one German translation, a high treat to the kindred imagination and feelings of the other northern nations. We too are, by more ties than one, Northmen-and though the mythology of the Edda, and the exploits of the Sagas, have been replaced in our nurseries, and our fancy, by the softer dreams of our Southern invaders, we may, nevertheless, hail an occasional interview with the grim heroes of Valhalla, with feelings not altogether alien to their grandeur and their gloom. That such congeniality of sentiment is not entirely imaginary, is proved by the favourable reception which Gray's and other translations of Runic rhyme met with in a country to whose inhabitants they must, but for some such unsuspected associations, have spoken a language both uncouth and unintelligible. The specimens of northern poetry hitherto presented to the English reader, have been chiefly of that fierce and gloomy character, which, pervading as it does both the history and mythology of Scandinavia, is, nevertheless, sometimes relieved—and with tenfold effect, from the very power of contrast-by passages of exquisitely natural pathos and beauty; like a rainbow on the thunder cloud, or like that well-known spot, amid the glaciers of Mont Blanc, called the "Jardin," whose verdure derives its chief charm from the eternal barriers of " thick ribbed ice" which form its boundary. It might seem wonderful to one even slightly acquainted with the Northern Mythology, to observe how sweetly fanciful are some of its personifications, how apparently inconsistent with its human sacrifices, and To this most excellent Periodical we wish all success. Its distinguished Editor was instrumental, along with others, in creating a taste for foreign literature, by admirable articles in THE MAGAZINE. We have still among us, however, many writers of at least equal erudition in that department; and shall from time to time present our friends with such articles as this our opening one, most interesting, we do not hesitate to say, in its subject matter, and of admirable execution. VOL. XXII. S C. N. |