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“ Only by the public voice being loudly and clamourously raised against it; or more effectually still, by prohibiting all sea insurances, when, take my word for it, there will not be one wreck for four that take place at present; and this would be more effectual than any inter. ference of the Legislature, which the ingenuity of man might contrive means to evade."
« But if sea insurances were prohibited, would not that check commerce ?"
“ On the contrary, it would very much increase it. There is no difference of opinion, that if sea insurances were prohibited, vessels would be made very much stronger and safer, and at least a half of the shipwrecks which will otherwise take place would be prevented."
“But would not that be too great a risk for the merchant and shipowner ?,'
“No. They would then have their property preserved in fact and in reality, instead of paying a tax upon it in an insurance office, which does not preserve it, and which is borne by the public. Indeed, if we look upon merchant shipping in its true light, as a bridge connecting distant countries together, it is evident the stronger and safer we can make that bridge, the less tax there will be required to be levied from passengers and goods; and on the other hand, the weaker and more insecure the bridge is, and the more repairs it requires, the greater tax must be levied from passengers and goods, to keep it up, and to pay for the repairs ; and which expenses must just be paid for again by the con. sumers of the commodities, so that a stronger bridge would very much facilitate and increase, instead of checking commerce.”
“ By your reasoning, then, it seems to be a pity that ever sea insur. ance was invented ?"
“ It is chargeable with the loss of hundreds of thousands of human lives, and hundreds of millions of property.”
“ I always thought it was a good thing before."
“ And so many who have not considered the subject think yet. But so much are the best institutions of men liable to be abused and perverted, that there is no doubt that the cause of three-fourths of the wrecks and damages to goods which take place in the world is owing to Insurance ! Insurance ! Insurance !"
The conversation being here ended, the clerks rose and walked away.
THE TORY HEARTS OF ENGLAND. The Tory hearts of England
Monopolists of England How wofully they quail !
You soon shall have your due ! Each brazen brow is clouded now,
We fear you not-for we have got Each cheek is deadly pale
A vengeful rod for you. The eyes that for the people's wo
That rod you brandished in the west, Would never shed a tear,
Till blood in torrents ran-
O'er outraged Hindostan.
The Tory Peers of England
How wrathfully they frown! Now let them sing their sorrowing
Their hateful yoke we burst-we broke With candle, book, and bell,
Their rotten boroughs down. For we will lay their idols low,
And all who thwart our patriot band, And give their pride a fall
From England's shores may fly, We'll turn their scarlet and their show And seek some more congenial land To sackcloth and to gall.
Beneath a foreign sky.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
(Continued from No. VII.)
Our attention is next claimed by Shelley's lyrical poetry. Under this head we include a numerous and rather miscellaneous class of poems. Strictly speaking, lyrical poetry means such as, from its brevity, or from the structure of its versification, is susceptible of being set to music. It may be narrative, descriptive, even didactic; or it may be the involuntary utterance, in one or two melodious lines, of a random thought. The exquisite delicacy of sentiment, and varied melody of versification which characterize Shelley's poetry, rendered him better adapted to excel in this kind of composition than any poet of the day. Poor Keates, in his ode to the nightingale, evinced a kindred power, but he has left us little in this way. Wordsworth wants varied melody, and Byron wrote with too manifest an exertion. Moore has got a high character as a lyrist, simply because his songs have been set to music, without reference to the merits of his versification, and without reference to his eternal conceits. In the examples we are about to subjoin, the reader must not be startled by the introduction of some pieces which would scarcely harmonize with some of his drawing-room and harpsichord associations. We speak not of what is, but of what is susceptible of being enhanced in value by musical intonation. The Germans, more musical, give a wider range to the subject of their songs, and would understand us better. This is our only apology for introducing here
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
In their noonday dreams.
The sweet birds every one,
As she dances about the sun.
And whiten the green plains under,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
And their great pines groan aghast ;
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Lightning my pilot sits
It struggles and howls at fits;
This pilot is guiding me,
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the lakes and the plains,
The Spirit he loves remains;
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead;
Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
In the light of its golden wings.
Its ardours of rest and of love,
From the depth of heaven above,
As still as a brooding dove.
Whom mortals call the moon,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
Which only the angels hear,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
Like a swarm of golden bees,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ;
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Over a torrent sea,
The mountains its columns be.
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
Is the million-coloured bow;
While the moist earth was laughing below.
And the nursling of the sky;
I change, but I cannot die.
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
Build up the blue dome of air,
And out of the caverns of rain,
I arise and unbuild it again.
LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR. I arise from dreams of thee
The nightingale's complaint, In the first sweet sleep of night,
It dies upon her heart, When the winds are breathing low, As I must upon thine, And the stars are shining bright:
Beloved as thou art ! I arise from dreams of thee,
O lift me from the grass ! And a spirit in my feet
I die, I faint, I fail ! Has led me who knows how ?
Let thy love in kisses rain To thy chamber window, sweet!
On my lips and eyelids pale. The wandering airs they faint
My cheek is cold and white, alas! On the dark, the silent stream
My heart beats loud and fast, The champak odours fail
Oh I press it close to thine again, Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
Where it will break at last. Change the measure. Here is tempest and rage conjured up by impassioned words.
III. The waters are flashing,
“ And fears't thou, and fear'st thou ? The white hail is dashing,
And see'st thou, and hear'st thou? The lightnings are glancing,
And drive we not free
O'er the terrible sea,
I and thou?"
One boat-cloak did cover The thunder is tolling,
The loved and the loverThe forest is swinging,
Their blood beats one measure,
They murmur proud pleasure
Soft and low ;-
While around the lashed ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion :
Like mountains in motion, Bird, beast, man, and worm,
Is withdrawn and uplifted,
Sunk, shattered and shifted
To and fro.
IV. “ Our boat has one sail,
In the court of the fortress And the helmsman is pale ;
Beside the pale portress, A bold pilot I trow,
Like a blood-hound well beaten,'
The bridegroom stands, eaten
On the topmost watch-turret, Put off gaily from shore !”.
As a death-boding spirit, As she spoke, bolts of death
Stands the grey tyrant father,
To his voice the mad weather,
And with curses as wild The blue beacon cloud broke,
As ere clung to child, And though dumb in the blast,
He devotes to the blast
The best, loveliest and last
Of his name?
Like mosaic, paven ;
Each a gem engraven.
A lake's blue chasm.
Amid the rich variety which the poet has left us, it is difficult to choose, but opening the book at random we select
THE HYMN OF PAN.
From the forests and highlands
We come, we come;
Listening to my sweet pipings.
Listening to my sweet pipings
And all dark Tempe lay
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,
And the brink of the dewy caves,
With envy of my sweet pipings.
I sang of the dædal Earth,
And then I changed my pipings-
I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed;
It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed:
At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
Leaving those of Shelley's poems, of which the matter rather than the form, constitutes the value, or which are valuable in despite of an un. propitious form, we turn to such as, by their claims upon our admiration, both on account of their form and matter, stamp him with the character of the complete poet. A niche must here be allotted for his translations from the Greek poets, and especially for his translation of the Cyclops, a work almost entitled to rank as an original for the exquisite divination with which he has entered into the feelings of so distant a state of society, and the unaccountable power with which he has given to an accurate translation all the easy flow and beauty of an original. This undertaking calls more imperatively for notice that it is conterminous with, and possibly aided in the development of that power which enabled him to collect his wandering fancies into majestic structures, which are organic wholes--all in all, and all in every part. For this new in. sight into the nature and power of the Greek poets and his own genius, he was not improbably indebted to the writings of Schiller and Göthe, with the spirit of which it is perfectly in accordance. Schiller's trans. lation of the Phænicians,” and Shelley's of the “ Cyclops,” are the