effect to the whole. In the front of the house are two neat pedestals, supporting ornamental urns; and a small jet d'eau is constantly throwing forth a limpid stream, which, returning to its destined basin, breaks the silence that prevails all around. Contiguous to the road is a curious cascade, overhung with trees, the water falling nearly sixty feet from the supereminent rock, over the several graduated ledges or descents, into a small stone basin : With woods o'erhung, and shagged with mossy rocks, In the centre of the stream opposite is a thatched fishing-hut, built of stones, so as to resemble a rustic grotto, with an approach by a small wooden bridge; affording a cool retreat for the angler. The stream, which winds itself through the estate, is pleasingly varied with several small falls, which not only add to the elegance of the scene, but contribute to delight the ear by their gentle murmurings. The general character of this valley is gay and cheerful, notwithstanding its sequestered situation. The embellishments consist of two neat bridges crossing the stream, pedestals, urns, decorative pillars, statues, and other productions of the plastic mould, which appear here and there intermingled with shrubbery walks and banks, overgrown with hanging weeds: • O bear me, then, to vast embow'ring shades, To weeping grottoes and prophetic glooms." 'Such are the picturesque features which characterize these peaceful regions of retirement, which seem well fitted for the exercise of those studies, by which we come at the knowledge of an infinity almost of things throughout all nature.' Nothing beyond this picturesque description can be said to recommend Tillingbourne to the notice of our readers. The work from which we have extracted it resembles a collection of cabinet landscapes, the colouring and vigorous expression of which bespeak originality, and the freedom and ease of a master hand. Delightful as is she scene, his description almost equals it in beanty, whilst his fidelity evinces much pains-taking and discrimination. "At the moment when the festival to celebrate the marriage of Polyxena and Achilles is beginning, Cassandra is seized with a presentiment of the misfortunes which will result from it,---she walks sad and melancholy in the grove of Apolio, and laments that knowledge of futurity which troubles all her enjoyments. We see in this Ode what a misfortune it would be to a human being could he possess the prescience of a divinity. Is not the sorrow of the prophetess experienced by all persons of strong passions and supreme minds? Schiller has given us a fine moral idea under a very poetical form, namely, that true genius, that of sentiment, even if it escape suffering from its commerce with the world, is frequently the vertim of its own feelings. Cassandra never marries, not that she is either insensible or rejected, but her penetrating soul in a moment passes the boundaries of life and death, and finds repose only in heaven.' -Madame de Stael's Germany. LOUD was mirth in Ilium's walls, Through the streets with shouts of gladness, That stood aloof in silent sadness, Joyless in the midst of joy,- To the grove Cassandra bends— To its deepest shades she passed, The wreath that bound her streaming hair. "Yes! the stream of joys spread wide, Every heart beats light and gay, Troy's proud hopes are mounting high,- I alone in silence weep, Fancy's dream deceives not me;- Rushing on these walls I see,' 'Lo! a torch all fiercely gleaming,- While they deck with hearts elate To this heart with sorrow torn. " Why hast thou thy prophet spirit Hence, that fearful scene of blood! Veil it from my aching eyes; Dread thought! that child of earth should dare To read thine awful mysteries! 'Give me back those days of blindness, While this heart yet blithely sung; Joy's light carols left me only Since I spoke with prophet's tongue. Each present good fleets past untasted The future fills and mads my brain— Youth's brightest hours in anguish wasted,- Youth to me has brought but tears, 'See those hearts with whom my pleasures 'E'en this heart, tho' withered now, Holds no longer joy for me. 'Ha! the murderer's flashing steel! Nor yet my straining eyes avert, It comes! the fate which crowns my woes- 'Hark! from out the temple's gate, THE TEST OF AMBITION. EFORE the hand of republican power had levelled all distinctions in France, and sunk the proudest families to the humiliated condition of the meanest peasant, in the gay neighbourhood of Versailles, the Marquis d'Embleville owned a sumptuous hotel, where he lived in epicurean luxury and princely splendour. His mind possessed all the imperious vanity of the ancient regime; and, placed by fortune at an awful distance, he looked down upon the canaille as unworthy to hold with him a rank in the same scale of being. His only son Lewis, in the prime of youth, had made the tour of Switzerland; he had visited every part of those wondrous regions, where nature reigns in all her grandeur, and displays to the enthusiastic mind that sublime and majestic scenery which attracts and gratifies the most unbounded curiosity. So remote from the haunts of courtly pleasure-so distant from the giddy circle of high life, he felt the impression of that tender passion, beneath whose controling power mortals of all degrees are indiscriminately doomed to bow. The object of his admiration was a lovely Swiss, fresh from the hand of nature, in all the bloom of youth and beauty, like the mother of mankind in the state of primeval innocence; honesty was the only wealth her friends possessed; her charms and virtues were her only portion. With this lovely maid Lewis had sought and cultivated an acquaintance. He weighed her mental graces against the frippery of Parisian belles, and with pleasure saw them greatly preponderate. She felt the congenial passion, but from disparity of circumstances suppressed the kindling hope. The shaft was fixed too deep in his bosom to be eradicated without lacerating his vitals! Although despairing of success, he returned to his father, and on his knees be |