He raised a mortal to the skics;
She drew an ange! down.

I.

On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser rolling rapidly.

II.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night
Cominanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

III.

By torch and trumpet fast array'd Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neigh'd, To join the dreadful revelry.

IV.

Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n,
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv❜n,

And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.

V.

And redder yet those fires shall glow,
On Linden's hills of blood-stain'd snow,

And darker yet shall be the flow
Of Iser rolling rapidly.

VI.

'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun Can pierce the war.clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.

VII.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave!

And charge with all thy chivalry!

VIII.

Ah! few shall part where many meet,
The snow shall be their winding sheet
And every turf beneath their feet,
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

WHEN Music, heavenly maid! was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell;
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting.
By turns, they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refined:
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,

From the supporting myrtles round,
They snatched her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart,
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each, for madness rul'd the hour,
Would prove his own expressive power.
First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid;
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made.
Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,

In lightnings own'd his secret stings,
With one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woful measures. wan Despair-
Low, sullen sounds his grief beguil'd:
A solemn, strange, and mingled air:
"Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail.
Still would her touch the strain prolong:

CAMPBELL

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo still through all her song:
And where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;
And Hope, enchanted, smil'd and waved her golder. hat:
And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose.

He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look.

The war-denouncing trumpet took,

And blew a blast so loud and dread,

Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of wo;
And, ever and anon, he beat

The doubling drum with furious heat:

And though, sometimes, each dreary pause" between,

Dejected Pity at his side,

Her soul-subduing voice applied,

Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien,

[head.

While each strain'd ball of sight-seemed bursting from his

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd;

Sad proof of thy distressful state;

Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd:

And, now it courted Love; now, raving, call'd on Hate

With eyes uprais'd, as one inspired,

Pale Melancholy sat retir'd;

And, from her wild sequester'd seat,

In notes, by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul,
And, dashing soft from rocks around,
Bubbling, runnels join'd the sound:

Through glades and glooms, the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay,
Round a holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing,

In hollow murmurs died away.

But, Oh, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone!
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known;
The oak crown'd Sisters, and their chaste ey'd Queen,
Satyrs and sylvan Boys were seen,

Peeping forth from alleys green;

Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear;

And Sport leap'd up and seiz'd'his beechen spear.
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial,

He with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand address'd—
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol;
Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best.
They would have thought who heard the strain,
They saw in Tempe's vale, her native maids,
Amidst the festal sounding shades,

To some unwearied minstrel dancing:
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,

Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,

And he, amidst his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
O Music, sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid,
Why, goddess, why, to us denied,
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?
As in that lov'd Athenian bower
You learn'd in all commanding power,
Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd,
Can well recall what then it heard.
Where is thy native simple heart,
Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?
Arise, as in the elder time,
Warm, energic, chaste, sublime!
Thy wonders, in that godlike age,
Fill thy recording sister's page-
'Tis said, and I believe the tale,
Thy humblest reed could more prevail,
Had more of strength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age,
Ev'n all at once together found,
Cecilia's mingled world of sound-
O, bid our vain endeavours cease,
Revive the just designs of Greece;
Return in all thy simple state;
Confirm the tales her sons relate!

COLLINS.

XII. ENUMERATION, OR AMPLIFICATION. Enumeration is that figure which numbers up the perfections or defects of persons or things, or which brings under one head the several parts of an argument, and, like the concentration of artillery in battle, when brought to act upon any given point, bears down all before it. This figure admits of various modes of delivery, agreeably to the nature of the subjects which may be enumerated, but monotone is recurred to oftener than any other mode.

Examples.

"Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around
Of hills and dales, of woods, and lawns, and spires,
And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all
The stretching landscape into sinoke decays."

THOMSON'S SEASONS.

"O now forever,

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troops and the big war
That make ambition virtue! O farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear piercing fife,
The royal banner; and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone."

TRAGEDY OF OTHELLO.

Is it come to this? shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people, in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and red hot plates of iron, and at last, put to the infamous death of the cross, a Roman citizen? Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in ago ny, nor the tears of pitying spectators, nor the majesty of the Roman Commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of his country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty of a monster, who, in confidence of his riches, strikes at the root of liberty and sets mankind at defiance ?" CICERO AGAINST VERRES.

"I cannot name this gentleman, without remarking, that his labors, and writings, have done much to open the eyes and the hearts of mankind. He has visited all Europe-not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosities of modern art; not to collect medals, or collate manuscripts; but to dive into the depths of dungeons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and of pain, and to take the guage and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten; to attend to the neglected; to visit the forsaken; and to compare, and collate, the distresses of all men in all countries."

BURKE'S EULOGIUM ON HOWARD.

Extract from a Sermon of the Rev. Thomas Gisborne, M. A. on the happiness attendant on the paths of religion. "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." PROV. iii. 17.

66

Among the internal demonstrations of the truth of christianity, the excellence of the appropriate lessons respectively addressed in the sacred writings to different descriptions of men, holds a distinguished place. To the wicked the scripture speaks the language of indig. nation, tempered with offers of mercy. To the penitent it promises