THE PARTITION OF THE EARTH.

(FROM SCHILLER.)

WHEN Jove had encircled our planet with light,
And had roll'd the proud orb on its way,
And had given the moon to illumine by night,
And the bright sun to rule it by day:
The reign of its surface he form'd to agree
With the wisdom that govern'd its plan;
He divided the earth, and apportion'd the sea,
And he gave the dominion to man.

The hunter he sped to the forest and wood,
And the husbandman seized on the plain;
The fisherman launch'd his canoe on the flood,
And the merchant embark'd on the main.
The mighty partition was finish'd at last,
When a figure came listlessly on;

But fearful and wild were the looks that he cast
When he found that the labour was done.
The mien of disorder, the wreath which he wore,
And the frenzy that flash'd from his eye,
And the lyre of iv'ry and gold which he bore,
Proclaim'd that the Poet was nigh;

And he rush'd all in tears, at the fatal decree,
To the foot of the Thunderer's throne,

And complain'd that no spot of the earth or the sea
Had been given the bard as his own.

Then the Thunderer smil'd at his prayer and his mien,
Though he mourn'd the request was too late;
And he ask'd in what regions the poet had been
When his lot was decided by fate.

Oh! pardon my error, he humbly replied,
Which sprung from a vision too bright,
My soul at that moment was close at thy side,
Entranc'd in these regions of light.

It hang on thy visage, it bask'd in thy smile;
And it hung on thy glances of fire;

And forgive, if bewilder'd and dazzled the while,
It forgot every earthly desire.

The earth, said the Godhead, is portion'd away,
And I cannot reverse the decree;

But the heavens are mine, and the regions of day,
And their portal is open to thee.

HE name of this establishment is derived, by an easy and evident corruption, from Chartreuse, the place in which it is situated having been a convent of Carthusian monks, who were treated with great cruelty when their possessions were seized by Henry VIII. On the 9th of May, 1611, Thomas Sutton, a man of immense wealth and unbounded liberality, purchased of the heirs of the duke of Norfolk, the Charter-house, with its appurtenances, for 13,000l.; and on the 22d. of June, in the same year, he obtained letters patent, with a license in mortmain, to found an hospital and free-school there. This admirable charity was perfected under the directions of his will, making a total expence of 20,000l.; and the founder left estates, for its endowment, valued at 4,5007. per annum. The scholars have handsome lodgings, are instructed in classical and other learning, and supplied with all the necessaries of life; the students at the universities have an allowance of 201. per annum each, for the term of eight years. The boys who are incapable of being brought up scholars, are put out as apprentices, and

the sum of 401. given with each. There are nine ecclesiastical preferments in the patronage of the governors. The buildings forming the Charter-house have a very ancient appearance. The Chapel is a venerable edifice, with Gothic windows, in two of which is painted glass representing the arms of Mr. Sutton. The organ-gallery is richly ornamented, and there are numerous monuments, but the principal curiosity is the tomb of the founder, who died in 1614. The Library was principally given by Mr. Wray, whose portrait hangs over the chimney-piece. The Old Court-room is richly decorated with carving and painting. In the Governor's room is the original portrait of Mr. Sutton,as well as portraits of Charles II. archbishop Sheldon, bishop Burnet, and other eminent men. The Hall has a large painted window, representing a ship and other emblems. Near the kitchen-garden is a curious pavement representing Mr. Sutton's arms and crest, executed with coloured pebbles by a pensioner.

IS beyond all comparison the most ingenious, brilliant, and fanciful poet of the present age. His external senses seem more delicate and acute than those of other men; and thus perceptions and sensations crowd in upon him from every quarter apparently independent of volition, and with all the vehemence and vivacity of instinct. He possesses the poetical temperament to excess, and his mind seems always in a state of pleasure, gladness, and delight, even without the aid of imagination, and by means merely of the constant succession and accumulation of feelings,sentiments, and images. The real objects of our every-day world to his eyes, glow with all the splendour of a dream, and even during the noon of manhood, he beholds, in all the works of creation, that fresh and unimpaired novelty which forms the glory and so rarely survives the morning of life. Along with this extreme delicacy and fineness of organization, he possesses an ever-active and creative Faney, which at all times commands the whole range of his previously-acquired images, and suddenly, as at the waving of a magic wand, calls them up into life and animation. Feeling and Fancy therefore are the distinguishing attributes of his poetical character; yet is he far from being unendowed with loftier qualities, and he occasionally exhibits a strength of Intellect, and a power of imagina

tion, which raise him above that class of writers to which be might otherwise seem to belong, and place him triumphantly by the side of our greatest Poets.

With this warmth of temperament, exceeding even the ordinary vivacity of the Irish national character, and with a fancy so lively and volatile, it behoved Mr. Moore, when first starting as a poet in early life, to be cautious in the choice both of his models and his subjects. In both he was most unfortunate; and every lover of virtue must lament, that while his first productions sometimes breathe and glow with genuine feeling and passion, and often exhibit harmless and amusing flights of capacious fancy, they are so fatally infected with a spirit to which we can give no other name than licentiousness, and which is incompatible with that elevation and dignity of moral sentiment essential to the very existence of real poverty.

But though he was thus early led astray, he soon began to feel how mean and how unworthy were even the highest triumphs won in such a field, and to pant for nobler achievements. Even in his most ungarded and indefensible productions, his ideas were too bright, sparkling, fugitive, and aerial, to become the slavish ministers of sensuality. His mind was unduly inflamed,but it was not corrupted. The vital spirit of virtue yet burned strong in his soul,-its flame soon began to glow with less wavering Justre, and with manifest aspiration to its native heaven. The errors and aberrations of his youthful genius seemed forgotten by his soul, as it continued to advance through a nobler and purer region; and it is long since Mr. Moore has redeemed himself-nobly redeemed himself, and bccome the eloquent and inspired champion of virtue, liberty and truth.

There can indeed be no greater mistake, than to consider this Poet, since his genius has repined and come to maturity, as a person merely full of conceits, ingenuity, and facetiousness. Many of his songs are glorious compositions, and will be immortal. Whatever is wild, impassioned, chivalrous, and romantic, in the history of his country, and the character of his countrymen, he has touched with a pencil of light,-nor is it too high praise to say to him that he is the Burns of Ireland. True, that he rarely exbibits that intense strength and simplicity of emotion by which some of the best songs of that great Poet carry themselves, like music from heaven, into the depths of our soul, but whenever imagination requires the aid

of her sister fancy,-whenever generous and lofty sensibilities, to the glory and triumph of human nature, display themselves in the concentration of patriotism or devotion, then the genius of Moore expands and kindles, and his strains are nobly and divinely lyrical. If Burns surpass him in simplicity and pathos-as certainly does he surpass Burns in richness of fancy-in variety of illustration -in beauty of language-in melody of verse-and above all, in that polished unity, and completeness of thought and expression, so essential in all lyrical composition, and more particularly so in songs, which being short, are necessarily disfigured by the smallest violation of language, the smallest dimness,weakness of confusion in the thought, image, sentiment, or passion.

Once again the bright sun in splendour is shedding
Its warm yellow beams o'er the hill and the dale;
And summer her green flowery mantle is spreading,
Perfuming with fragrance the soft-sighing gale.
There clad in grey plumage the cuckoo's seen flitting
Through woods, and through meadows, delighting to rove;
Or, on some old oak, huge with mistletoe, sitting,

Three times she re-echoes her notes thre' the grove.
O, motherless bird, that alone and in danger,

Thy offspring can leave while thou wand'rest away;
Can give thine own young to the care of a stranger,
That thou thro' the forest may revelling stray.
And selfish and cold all thy actions still seeming,
As though for thyself thou wert caring alone;
Thou com'st when the warm summer season is gleaming
And leav'st us again when that summer is gone.

THE Cuckoo visits us early in the spring, appearing first about the middle of April, and cheering the vicinity of its habitation with that well-known note with which so many exquisite ideas and feelings are associated. About the close of June this note ceases. Its stay is short, the old cuckoos being said to quit this country early in July. These birds are generally supposed to build no nest; but, what is also extraordinary, the female cuckoo deposits her solitary egg in that of another bird, by whom it is hatched. The nests she chooses for this purpose are generally selected from those of the following birds hedge-sparrow, water-wagtail, tit-lark, yellow-hammer, green-linnet, or the whinchat. Of these it has been observed, that she shows the greatest partiality to the nest of the hedge-sparrow. During the time the hedge-sparrow

the