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stood to belong to royal bounties of this kind, which is as unbecoming in Ministers of the Crown, as it is embarrassing in its effects to individuals who neither supposed, nor had reason to suppose, that they were receiving allowances which the public at large were to examine and comment upon. It may be a very proper subject for discussion in the House of Commons, whether the monarch ought to have a large sum placed at his disposal, to be granted away by him in pensions to such persons as, from his own knowledge, or the recommendation of others, he may deem deserving of such bounty; but such a sum having been granted and disposed of by the King, it is scarcely fair now to drag before the public the names of all those among whom it has been shared. It is true that the King could only grant a pension on his civil list for his own life, and therefore, at the formation of a new Civil List, it may be proper to see whether the persons favoured in the former distribution ought to be continued in the receipt of money, to which, without the aid of Parliament, they have no further claim; but this is a matter in which they at least should be parties, and every pensioner should have had the option of saying "What I received hitherto, I received from the King, and I do not choose to submit my name to the public for a continuation of the bounty."

The document being now before the public, they have, we shall not deny, much reason to regret that the money which they placed at the King's disposal should have been appropriated as in many instances it has been; and we are free to confess, that many items in this paper cannot be read without disgust, while there are but few indeed attached to names which the public will recognise as being worthy of a special interference of royal bounty. The public should therefore take care that, for the future, a sum should not be thus placed, nominally in the hands of the King, but actually in the hands of his servants, to be wasted upon objects to which, from their profligacy, they have become attached. The power should be taken away from the King's Ministers to grant away annuities, as if they were a private do

nation from the King; and whatever pensions are not from the privy purse, should be on the consolidated fund, and come yearly before the public in the financial accounts.

It is not merely by the pensions on the civil list that the public is blinded to the sum actually spent by the country in this manner there is no source of revenue that has not pensions saddled upon it in its progress to the Exchequer-Customs, Excise, Stamps, Post Office, &c., &c., all have their deductions for pensions before they reach the consolidated fund, and then that general fund is loaded with another most formidable list. There are also lists of pensions on the four and a half per cent sugar duties, and on the shilling, and the sixpenny, pension duties. Everywhere there are pensions-and some names there are so fortunate, as to be found in almost all the lists. It is, therefore, very desirable that all pensions should be carried to one account-that all the branches of revenue should be paid in, without any deduction but the actual expenses of collection, and a sum be taken from the aggregate to defray the whole amount of the pension list.

The other subject of this evening's debate, with which we shall conclude our Parliamentary review for this month, was the adjournment of the House to the 3d of February. Upon the consideration of this motion, it seems natural to ask what the government had done since its appointment, or in what state of flourishing security had it left the country, that it should have been deemed reasonable or politic to take six weeks' holydays from Parliamentary labours, after about a month's exertion; and inevitably to deprive the country for all that time of the aid to be derived from Parliamentary control or advice, no matter what emergency might arise to call for it. Had the government shewn itself very powerful, or had its proceedings met with such undivided approbation as to warrant the supposition, that whatever it might be called upon to do, would be done in accordance with the views of Parliament and the people, there would have been-at all events in the popular view-some excuse for this long sus

pension of Parliamentary interference and control; but this has not been the case-on the contrary, in looking back at what the new govern. ment has done, we find nothing to give satisfaction to any party, except themselves, which does not consist in mere promises and pledges, while every act upon which they have ventured, has been productive of loud complaint, and has been decidedly despotic in its character, and inimical to the feelings of the people. They pledged themselves to peace, and increased the standing army by six thousand men; they pledged themselves to economy, and made new legal appointments in Ireland, which have saddled the country with a large unnecessary expense, while they have filled the bar of Ireland with indignation, and the people with rage. They pledged themselves to reform, and endeavoured to procure a new writ of election for a place which had just been convicted of gross bribery and corruption in the return of members of Parliament, and to crown all these, they abolish a tax laid on for the protection of a domestic manufacture, without asking the consent of Parliament, or any consent but that of their own absolute will.

On which of these acts, we should like to know, do they ground their claims for that perfect confidence which alone would justify them, in such times as these, in adjourning the parliament for six weeks? Is it the tranquillity of Ireland, the content of England, the settled state of affairs in France, or all these things together, that they rely upon for not requiring parliamentary advice for six weeks!

The truth is, that Whigs always have that enormously high opinion of their own abilities, which makes them essentially despotic in temper and inclination. Because they can talk with smartness, they suppose they can judge of every thing better than those who do not talk so smartly, and they would feel no diffidence whatever in setting about governing the country without any Parliament, if that, according to the constitution of the country, were possible. As far as it is possible, we find them endeavouring to do so, and as usual, with the cry of liberality and popular liberty in their mouths, tyranny and jobbing mark their acts. Happily, this overweening conceit, which makes a Whig government so odious, carries with it the principle of that government's dissolution. Each individual is so vain of himself, and his own plans, that no dozen of them can continue for any length of time to act in harmony together-their councils become disturbed by disagreements and bickerings, and they soon fall asunder, and find themselves again on the Opposition benches, where they may indulge themselves in saying that which, in government, they are incapable of doing.

We have not the least doubt that this would almost immediately be the fate of Lord Grey's Ministry, were there any party formed, ready and competent to take up the government in its place;-but old associations are dreadfully shaken in this country; political confidence has gone; hope has almost withered, and with a raging desire in the people for change, men shrink from political responsibilities.

SONNETS ON THE GIANTS' CAUSEWAY.

I.

WHENCE rose ye? on what basement are ye stayed,
Ye forms of wondrous grandeur? Who hath hewn
These matchless strong proportions? Who hath strewn
This mass of glorious power? Whom obeyed
Nature in rearing thee, Dread Colonnade?

Answers come sounding forth from depth and height!
While ocean bears me on, hark from these caves
A thousand echoes tell,-and as it raves
Against yon headland shores, its voice of might
Thunders the Name at which Heaven's pillars bow!
E'en ye too mean to prop his footstool-world-
Down at His presence shall ye quickly flow-

Soon from your sunless rests shall ye be hurled;
When in one flame the Universe shall glow!

II.

WHERE are the deep-laid chymic cisterns, whence
Precipitate congealed these crystals vast?
Or what the forges, whose wild vehemence,

Fanned by the bellows of an earthquake-blast,
Into these moulds the molten mineral cast?
O! far from scenes like these be banished hence
Proud theory and arrogant pretence!

Memorials of a world adjudged and past!
Ye solemn monuments, of nothing vain,

Over some guilty race like tombs ye rise!
Or, sweeter thought, ye shaped to Heaven's strain
Attuning mighty order from the skies,-

The trophied architecture of a reign

With whose mysterious harmony it vies!

III.

A HIGHWAY for your God! and lo! the Sea
Gave way, and wondering Spectator stood;
Its boiling fury was at once subdued,
And its waves kissed the mole, no longer free!
A highway for your God! and suddenly

The promontory cross-way clave the flood:
And still the surge repeats that "all is good"
To the Primeval Mandate, "Let it be !"

So, when Thy Footsteps, Lord, are still unknown

As through the waters deep Thou hold'st thy course, Thy people onward pass, not overflown,

The wildest billows soon have spent their force,Soft gales just breathe where tempests long have blown, All stilled and hushed to ocean's deepest source !

IV.

ARE ye not bulwarks to this lovely Isle,

Isle of the shamrock, of the harp and saint?
Where verdure doth its greenest beauties paint,
And hill, glen, lake, in each proportion smile,
Framed in by every mountain's grim defile!
What though among its legends, strangely quaint,
We trace the spread of superstition's taint,
As flaws deform thee, thou great Barrier Pile:
The trefoil twined around Life's healing tree,—
The song of holy burden filled the air,-
Wide flew the seed of the devout Culdee,
And grateful harvests well repaid his care!

And Thou wast as the Porch to which to flee,
When Erin was Earth's purest House of Prayer!

AND stretches outward,-to yon Wondrous Rock,
In magic pillars rising from the deep,

Of lightest cluster or with bending sweep,
Braving the eddy's waste and billow's shock,
As placed the works of human art to mock,-
Stretches this platform's massive masonry,

As if a pathway leading through the main,
To the ne'er-closing threshold of this Fane,
Paving the ocean's dark immensity?
That hidden cloister shall no eye discern:

That sunken passage shall no plummet sound:
There only monsters plunge who may not learn
Why reaches on this sea-dividing bound,-
Secrets, till Sea shall dry and Earth shall burn!

VI.

DREAD Temple of the Waters! Ocean-Shrine !
Oft beneath pointed roof, through lengthened aisle,
Of superstition's dight and columned style,
The Pattern we recall of Truth divine,
And as we gaze, deplore the strange decline.
No sin thy self-hewn pillars can defile!

No cheat thy self-sprung arches can beguile!
Far nobler than where golden altars shine!
Ages have seen thee! while the piles of earth
Have mouldered: if indeed thou wast not flung
In all thy majesty from Nature's birth:

And when the Morning Stars blest jubilee sung,
Didst thou not all reverberate their mirth?

Here Pilgrim Waves aye bowed, and Choir-Winds rung!

LEODIENSIS.

GOOD-NIGHT.

TO MARY

Good-night, good-night, our lamp expiring
Now sheds around still softer light,
'Tis time for friends from friends retiring,
To whisper low, Good-night, good-night.

Dim age, in chimney corner dozing,

Now sees no more thine eyes still bright,
And tired wight from toil reposing,

Stops not to say, Good-night, good-night.

And now the tale and jest no longer
Circle round with laughter gay,

And Morpheus soothes with magic stronger
Than storied page or poet's lay.

Then haste, beneath your pillow placing
The bride-cake, charm'd with mystic spell;
Doubt not, dear girl, some dream's wild tracing.
The secret of your soul shall tell.

Oh! should some kind propitious Fairy
Amid the darkness wandering be,

May she trip lightly round my Mary,
And fill her sleep with thoughts of me!

But when her snowy hands have braided
In glossy folds her flowing hair,
And plaited borders closely shaded
That gentle face, so kind and fair;

Ere, dear maiden, sleep has bound you
In his soft and unfelt chain,
Cast a parting glance around you
From your woodbine-latticed pane.

Faint the lonely taper gleameth
From some cottage home afar,
Its little ray but feebly streameth
Through the dark and silent air.

No sound is heard at this still hour,
Save leaf of aspen quivering light;
And nought but scent of fragrant flower
Is borne upon the breath of night.

And silent nature, deep reposing,
Sheds around a holy calm,
And mortal eyelids softly closing,
Find her sweet and gentle balm.

But while to peaceful rest betaking,
Weary man is sunk in sleep,
In heaven ten thousand eyes awaking,
Their bright immortal vigils keep.

Star beyond star for ever shineth,
Radiant in yon vast profound,

Whose dark blue depths no bound confineth,
Nor winged thought hath power to sound.

Shall fancy seek, such height ascending,
Amid their glittering orbs to soar,-
Read their bright page, and lowly bending,
Deep in your inmost soul adore?

And in that mighty Power confiding,
Who gave to beam their living light,
Oh, fear not aught of ill betiding,

But peaceful sleep-good-night, good-night!

Manchester, Jan. 1831.

M. J. L.

THE EARLY LOST.

BY DELTA.

FARE-thee-well, fair flower, that opening
To the genial smile of day,
By the storm-blast, in a twinkling,
From our sight wert swept away!
Never more thy voice shall cheer us,
Never more thy form be seen,

In our solitude we startle

But to think that thou hast been!

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