The sterile plain regarding, and the bare
Deserted site of that unhappy spot,

Sorrowing, he mourned aloud his heavy lot;
And these sad accents pierced the doubtful air:
In thy disastrous ruin I behold,

O shattered rampart, Heaven's tremendous change,
And all the troubled wreck of human fate :

What more appalling chance, or moral strange,

Can be, than Marius in his grief consoled,
By viewing thee, O Carthage, desolate!'

Hitherto, Herrera appears only as a successful follower of the great
Italian poet;-in a province, which all the talent and skill of its masters
have barely rescued from the indifference of posterity:-we are now to
observe him in a nobler exercise of his art, wherein, amongst the mo-
derns, at least, he had no predecessor, and has hitherto found no equal.
His Canciones combine the energy of the classical lyrics with the sweet-
ness of the Italian canzoni, coloured by the rich and sober dignity of the
Spanish temperament. They do not possess the fire and abrupt variety
of the Pindaric, nor the exquisite propriety of the Horatian odes; but
they are far more gorgeous in their apparel, and breathe in more elevated
strains. No writer has worn the mantle of lyrical inspiration with greater
majesty, or uttered music of more sustained beauty, than Herrera. His
imagery, lavished in the utmost profusion, is bold and varied; and he
excels in felicitous changes of personification, which present his subject
in forms perpetually novel and picturesque. Upon the language of these
works he has exhausted all the resources of his skill,-obtaining a
marvellous flexibility of manner, by the unusual freedom of construction
he employs; and choosing his expressions with peculiar care. But it is
in the lofty tone of these effusions that their rare excellence consists;
they strike the mind with an air of sublimity, which carries the hearer
upwards, as upon wings.-Herrera's canciones may be divided into two
classes; the pensive, and the historical or heroic. From the former, we
select his celebrated "Ode to Sleep ;" which, for harmony of versifica-
tion, and tender beauty of manner, is unrivalled by any similar com-
position. The spirit of this lyric may, indeed, in some measure be pre-
served; but its delicious grace, and felicity of language, escape almost
wholly in the process of translation. In the original, the imploring tone
of supplication, the elegant variety in the mode of address, and the
dreamy beauty of the epithets, form a whole, the effect of which is ab-
solutely enchanting.

1

CANCION I.

Suave sueno, tu que en tardo buelo, &c.

Sweet Slumber, that, in slow encircling flight,
Wavest thy lazy wings, with soothing sway,
Crown'd with the drowsy poppy's purple hues,
Through the pure, floating, silent heaven of night;
Come to this furthest verge of sinking day,

And with thy blessed dews,

Bathe my sad eyes, and grateful calm infuse!

For, weary slave to mine infuriate pain,

I find no rest from care,

And grief subdues the vigour to sustain :

Hear my submissive prayer!

Come at my prayer submissive! Thou, the pride

Of that fair nymph whom Heré made thy bride!

NO, XI.-VOL. II.

2 S

Most heavenly sleep! poor mortals' brightest dower!
Sweet respite to the sufferer's keen distress,
Most amorous sleep! O come to me, who sigh
To cheat this busy anguish for an hour,
And all my sense to deep repose address.
And wilt thou see me die

For need of thee, who wert not wont to fly?
O cruel, thus to leave one lonely breast

Awake in weary wo,

Sole stranger to the healing calm impress'd
On all the world below!

Glad sleep! come, holy sleep! around me close,
And o'er my troubled spirit shed repose!

Display thy power in this mine urgent need!
Descend, and sprinkle melting dews around.
Veil from my sight the dawn's expanding glow.
Hear my consuming plaint, nry misery plead!
And moisten my hot brow.

See! his blent rays the sun is kindling now.
Delicious sleep! return: thy pinions fair
Fan, with soft murmurings;

And bid Aurora, with unwelcome air,

Fly back, on rapid wings.

Thus shall the early day's approaching light
Heal the long injuries of icy night.

O Sleep! an offering of thy nodding flowers

I bring thee! now thy mild enchantment rain

On the drear hollows of my heavy eyes.

Bid soothing airs, bedewed with fragrant showers,
Come, waving magic solace o'er my brain;

And of my sorrow's toils

Efface, O gentle sleep! the furrowed spoils!

Come, then, beloved sleep! come, fluttering sprite!

From the rich orient's eye

Young Phoebus shoots a beam of hoary light.
Merciful Sleep! draw nigh,

And my long wo shall cease :-So may'st thou find
Delight, in loved Pasithea's arms entwined!

Is not this, even as viewed through the dim medium of our translation, a strain such as few poets have uttered.

In consideration of the extent to which our comment has already proceeded, we must forego the pleasure of exhibiting any sketch of those Canciones, which Herrera addressed to his real or fancied mistress: Some of these are exquisite; and there are few which do not contain poetical thoughts expressed in language of great beauty. Unwillingly, also, do we omit an intended analysis of his Elegies in Terza Rima, dedicated to the same subject. One of these, which commences, Bien debes asconder, oscuro cielo,-bewailing the supposed death of his ladyelove, several Spanish critics* regard as the most perfect of his works; and very sweet and pathetic it certainly is:-yet we cannot admit as chefs d'œuvre of our author any imitations; such as this, however successful, must undoubtedly be termed.

We are in no wise sorry, that the straitness of our present limits defends us from the task of developing to such of our readers, as Petrarch

Such, as far as we can gather from the tone of his remarks, is also Bouterwek's opinion.

has not already made acquainted with this vicious kind of production, the ingenuity which Herrera has wasted upon Sestinas; or compositions in six stanzas, of three couplets each, the same three pairs of rhymes preserved through all the verses; each, however, in a different order of arrangement. We may observe, that in this paltry abuse of metrical artifice, Herrera has displayed, perhaps, as much dexterity as any of his fellow-criminals. Little praise is implied in the remark; and with this brief observation we gladly quit an ungrateful subject.

We have now attempted, in some degree, to pourtray Herrera's chief attainments in two considerable provinces of the poetic art ;-our next, and by far more important task, will be to display them in a sphere wherein the genius of the poet rises to a still brighter pre-eminence. It is in virtue of his sublime Heroic Odes that Herrera is mainly entitled to the exalted station which we claim for him amongst lyrical writers; for we do not hesitate to assert, in full recollection of Chiabrera,* Guidi,† Filcaja and Quintana, and many others, his successors and imitators, that, in this department of poetical creation, for majesty of style, and grandeur of conception, Herrera as yet stands wholly unapproached. Our notice of these noble compositions, which deserve to be unfolded with more fulness and deliberation than we could now bestow upon them, will form the subject of a concluding paper.

⚫ Of these, Chiabrera has followed Herrera most nearly, and with the most success. + Compare this Author's Ode on the deliverance of Vienna by Sobieski, fine as it is, with any of Herrera's three, on the Victory of Lepanto.

SON, Christian, Patriot, Hero, Statesman, Friend,
Gentle in peace, in peril unsubdued;

All attributes that mark the great and good,
Did in the breast of Young Fitzgerald blend !
His was the rare ambition, when, to bend

Before our country's ruthless tyrants would
Have been accounted honour, with his blood
Our country's falling freedom to defend.
Nor vainly sank that blood upon the prison
Whence heavenward his martyr-spirit fled.
If now our freedom's dawning star hath risen;
If Erin now may lift her drooping head;
Not ours the glory of that change!-It is on
His grave its mourning laurels must be shed!

A SUMMER EVENING DIALOGUE BETWEEN AN
ENGLISHMAN AND A POLE.

BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.

POLE. You should not ask foreigners to praise your country till you can shew it them under such an aspect as this. Its rural scenes should be entered upon at this very hour of this very season. I have told you that you should approach Heidelberg at sunset, and Venice when the full moon has risen, and Genoa when the sun first peeps up from the sea. Abroad, I would say, traverse the harvest fields of England, when they wave in the golden light of an August evening.

ENGLISHMAN. Is the beauty of our landscape peculiar? I should have thought, without any allusion to your own unhappy country, that you had seen many such prospects as this in the flourishing agricultural regions through which you have travelled.

POLE.-I have traversed many corn districts, during both seed-time and harvest; and the song of the vine-dressers, and the chant of the reapers, are alike familiar to me. But there is a beauty in your rural districts which I discern in no others. The haze on the horizon, which tells that a busy city is there, enhances the charm of the balmy solitude; and yonder lordly mansion among the woods, and the peasant's cottage in the lane, give a grace, by contrast, to each other.

Yonder

ENGLISHMAN. And their inhabitants, likewise, I suppose. whistling labourer, plodding homeward with his sickle in his hand, contrasts well with the mechanic loitering through the field, chewing straws. And that cottage mother, gleaning in the next field, with her tribe of little ones about her, forms as pleasant an object as Lord W. with his train of high-born sons and daughters-as graceful a riding party as ever was seen-emerging from the green lane upon the down.

The voices of the children,

POLE. It is a tranquil and fair scene. pulling dog-roses and birdweed, are as sweet to the ear as the cooing of the ringdove in the grove we have just left; and there is music in the village clock, which sets all these peasants converging towards their homes. If ever there was peace, it is surely here; and it is soothing, even to the lacerated heart of a Pole, to witness it.

ENGLISHMAN.-Such are the outward shows of things in this world. Do you not know, my friend, that brows often ache under coronets, and that splendid smiles sometimes disguise the wounds of the heart? Even

so this fair scene yields a false show of happiness.

within reach of our touch.

POLE.-Nay; but here is fact. There is reality before our eyes, and Here is golden grain, bowing beneath its the fruits of the harvest. And these abodes and their occupiers-are own weight, in this field; and, in the next, the wain is piled high with

they but visions?

field flowers which flourish on a tomb, or the fever-flush which brightens ENGLISHMAN.-None of these things are visions, any more than the the eye of the sick; but it does not follow that there is not decay and

pain beneath and within.

POLE.-You mean that there is mortal sorrow within the bounds of this horizon. True; where humanity is present, there is sorrow. own choice. What I mean is, that there is hollowness under this apparent ENGLISHMAN.-Ay; and not only unavoidable sorrow, but that of man's prosperity. Step a little this way, and I will shew you the ugly walls of a workhouse, where you now see only a clump of elms. The mechanic

and the d

on the be

of the har the peasa

loiters here, because he is afraid to face his half-fed family at home; yonder labourer doubts whether his wife's gleanings will serve this week instead of parish pay. Look at these ill-grown fences, these rickety gates! The farmer who is about to reap this crop has no heart to keep his fixtures in good repair; and his wife, seeing his despondency, dreads to hear of his being found drowned in one of his own ditches. As for Lord W. and his family, they are going abroad to live cheap, till the education of the sons is finished. It wrings their hearts to leave their beautiful seat; but the steward exhibits a list of rent-arrears four times as long as that of receipts. So much for all this apparent prosperity!

POLE. But whence all this? You have no war, foreign or civil, to consume your resources; and Providence has blessed your land with three successive fruitful seasons. Whence is all this trouble?

ENGLISHMAN.-The sufferers will tell you that it arises from that fruitfulness of the seasons, which you speak of as a blessing. Far from suspecting that, by our own mismanagement, we turn blessings into curses, they pray for the continuance of a policy which would make double crops, if we could get them, cause double dearth.

In

POLE.-You mean the extraordinary arrangement of taxing corn. our country we cannot comprehend why you persist in raising corn at a vast expense, when from us you might have it cheap. We want fabrics made of your wool; and have so much corn to give in exchange, that we feed our cattle with wheat, and leave large tracts of fine land waste, because you will not buy, but rather choose to bury your resources in your own bad soils.

ENGLISHMAN. Whence little enough of it arises again.

POLE. And of that little the greater part is taken by the landlord. Which is the most pernicious crime,-fraud, robbery, or waste?

ENGLISHMAN.-There is little choice when the interests of a nation are in question. Of which do you accuse us, in respect of our corn regulations? For my part, I charge our system with both.

POLE. It was of waste that I first thought, in reference to the raising of the landlord's rent. His rent rises with every new tillage of inferior land; but it is not only his portion, but that of the farmer, and that of the labourer, which becomes dear, because you will not have corn from abroad. Is not this waste?

ENGLISHMAN.-Most destructive waste. The landlord's portion of
the whole average corn produce of this kingdom is now about one-
fourth.
More corn being wanted, it is raised at a greater cost; the
whole produce becomes dearer; so that all who eat pay higher for their
three quarters of the produce, in order that the landlords' rent may be
increased. This is robbery as well as waste.

POLE. And robbery which avails little to any one, it seems, since
Lord W. has to go abroad, as you say. His rents are, it appears, only

nominally increased, since he cannot get them paid.

likewise.

ENGLISHMAN.And he is oppressed with the burden of pauperism As soon as corn becomes too dear for labourers to buy, they must have it given them in charity. Lord W.'s steward stands on his right, the parish assessors on his left. "My Lord," says the steward, "your tenants can pay only half their rents; this good season has ruined them." "My Lord," say the assessors, "the workhouse is as full

as ever. The abundance of the last harvest has not compensated the rise

of price caused by the tillage of B common. The labourers can buy
little bread, and you must supply them with as much more as they want."
So a part of the diminished rent goes to paupers; Lord W. sells his stud,
goes abroad.

and