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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, returnjug to its destined basin, breaks the silence that prevails all around. Contiguous to the road is a cu. rious 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 oferhung, and shagged with mossy rucks,
Or gleam in lengthend vista thro the trees. "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; af. fording 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 em. bellishments 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 misfortubes which will result from it,---she walks sad and melancholy in the grove of Apolio, aod laments that knowledge of futurity which troubles all her enjoyments. We see in this de 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 miods? Schiller has given us a fine moral idea under a very poetical form, namely, that true sebius, that of sentiment, even if it escape suffering from its commerce with the world, is frequently the vcitim of its own feelings. Cassandra never marries, not that she is either insensible or rejected, but her penetrating soul in a momeut passes the boundaries of life and death, aud finds repose only in heaven.' - Madame de Stael's Germany,
LOUD was mirth in llium's walls,
Lo! a torch all fiercely gleaming, Not the torch which Hymen brings ;Dark the clouds behind it streaming, Not of nuptial offerings! While they deck with hearts elate The testal pomp,-in boding sound :Hark! I hear the tread of fate Come to crush it to the ground. « Yes! they mock my silent grief,Laugh my bitter tears to scorn,There alove I find relief To this heart with sorrow torn. Spurned by fortune's minion trains,Spurned, insulted by the gay ;Hard tbe lot thou hast assigned, O, unpitying god of day. Why hast thou thy prophet spirit To a mortal maiden dealt? What can I from this inherit, But woes I never else had felt ? Why to me the fates disclosed, When I cannot shun their force ? Still the hovering cloud must break, - . The day of dread rolls on its course. • Why, where terrors crowd the scene, Back the veil of ages throw, Where but ignorance is bliss, Only knowledge leads to woe, 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 untastedThe future fills and made my brain Youth's brightest hours in anguish wasted, Take thy treach'rous gift again. • Never yet, with bridal garlands, Have I dared my locks to twine.' Since I vowed upon tbine altar Service at thy gloomy shrine.
Youth to me has brought but tears,
See those hearts with whom my pleasures
· Hark! from out the temple's gate,
THE TEST OF AMBITION.
BY W. HOLLOWAY. JEFORE the hand of republican power had levelled all distinctions in France, and sunk the proudest families to the humiliated condition of the dieanest peasant, in the gay neighbourhood of Versailles, the Marquis
d'Embleville owned a sumptuous hotel, where
C he lived in epicurean luxury and princely sale 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 ca. naille as unworthy to hold with him a rank in the same scale of being. His only son Lewis, in the prime of youth, bad 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 wbich 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 Jovely maid Lewis bad 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 boson to be eradicated without lacerating his vitals! Although despairing of success, he returned to his father, and on his knees be.