of a poem called “ O'Connor's Child?" Oh, hush that strain too deeply felt! What will posterity, thinks he, think And cease that solace too severe ! of it? At the risk of being reckoned purblind and stone-deaf by posterity, “ But thou, serenely silent art! we predict that posterity will love and By Heaven and Love wast taught to lend admire and worship the genius en

A milder solace to the heart, shrined there-till posterity ceases to

The sacred image of a friend. have posterity--and

“ All is not lost! if, yet possest, “ Earth's cities have no sound or tread, To me that sweet memorial shine! And ships are drifting with the dead If close and closer to my breast To shores where all are dumb!”

I hold that idol all divine, We must now part with Mr Camp

“ Or, gazing through luxurious tears, bell and his critic. Maga, at least, Melt o'er the loved departed form, will survive for ever-and should

Till death's cold bosom half appears it so happen that all editions of the

With life, and speech, and spirit warm. works of the Bard of Hope-one after the other-at intervals of a century or 6 She looks! she lives ! this tranced hour, $o_drop into oblivion-remotest pos- Her bright eye seems a purer gem terity may see here as beautiful stanzas Than sparkles on the throne of power, of his as any that even then may have Or glory's wealthy diadem, been written - and be grateful to CHRISTOPHER THE EMBALMER.

"Yes, Genius, yes! thy mimic aid

A treasure to my soul has given,

Where beauty's canonized shade
STANZAS TO PAINTING.

Smiles in the sainted hues of heaven.

« Does Hope her high possession meet ?

Is joy triumphant--sorrow flown ? Sweet is the trance, the tremor sweet,

When all we love is all our own.

Have you Joanna Bailie's Dramatic Works in your library ? No! Then get them-and begin with “ THE BEACON.” “ The piece," says the gracious lady, " is very short, and can neither be called tragedy nor comedy. It may indeed appear, for a passion so allied to all our cheerful and exhilerating thoughts, to approach too nearly to the former ; but Hope, when its object is of great importance, must so often contend with despondency, that it rides like a .vessel on the stormy ocean, rising on the bil. low's ridge but for a moment. Cheerfulness, the character of common Hope, is, in strong Hope, like glimpses of sunshine in a stormy sky." If such poetry be in the preface, what treasures untold may you not trust to find

" Shall Song its witching cadence roll ?

Yea, even the tenderest air repeat, That breathed when soul was knit to soul,

And heart to heart responsive beat !

" What visions rise ! to charm. to melt !

The lost, the loved, the dead are near!

1

SONG.

in the drama itself! She “ ventures Who have the while in silent stillness sat, to call it a musical drama," and it is Like one forlorn, that has no need of time. so indeed—the only musical drama Aur. In truth I have but little here to do deserving the name that we know of With time or any thing besides. It passes ; in our language. Joanna takes care

Hour follows hour ; day follows day; and to make no people sing in situations year, in which it is not natural for them to

If I so long shall last, will follow year : do so; the songs are all sung by Like drop that through the cover'd hermit's those who have little or nothing to

roof act, and introduced when nothing very

Some cold spring filters, glancing on bis eye

At measured intervals, but moving not interesting is going on; and they are

His fix’d, unvaried notice.” supposed not to be spontaneous expressions of sentiment in the singer, Edda, to cheer her mistress, asks but (as songs in ordinary life usually leave to "sing the song she praised so are) compositions of other people, much”—but Aurora was in another which have been often sung before, mood then-and she now merely reand are only generally applicable to pliesthe present occasion. In these few

“ I thank thy kindness-sing it if thou words which are almost all her

wilt ;" own—this great poetess has laid down the principles on which alone can and then sits down on a low seat, her any musical drama be constructed head supported between both her agreeably to nature.

hands, with her elbows resting on her But why a Musical Drama ? Be- knees. cause the passion of Hope, if long dwelt on in a drama, was in danger, she felt, of turning tiresome and lan- “ Where distant billows meet the sky, guid—not being so powerfully inter- A pale, dull light the seamen spy, esting as those that are more turbu. As spent they stand and tempest tost, lent--and at the same time of being Their vessel struck, their rudder lost; sunk into shade, or entirely overpow.

While distant homes where kinsmen weep, ered, if relieved from it by variety of

And graves full many a fathom deep, strongly marked characters in the in- By turns their fitful, gloomy thoughts por

tray: ferior persons—therefore she introdu.

''Tis some delusion of the sight, ced songs in several scenes

on the

Some northern streamer's paly light.' principle she has explained-and now

• Fools l saith roused Hope, with gen'rous you know why The Beacon is a Mu. sical Drama. But why THE BEACON ?

It is the blessed peep of morn, Because Aurora, a lady resident on

And aid and safety come when comes the a small island of the Mediterranean,

day.' about the middle of the fourteenth

And so it is the gradual shine century, had promised, on the de

Spreads o'er heaven's verge its lengthen'd parture of her lover, Ermingard, to

line : the Holy War, to kindle a Beacon on Cloud after cloud begins to glow the cliff to guide his ship on his return And tint the changeful deep below; from Palestine. Years pass—and no Now sombre red, now amber bright, tidings of her hero-whom all but Till upward breaks the blazing light; she have given up to the grave or Like floating fire the gleamy billows burn: the sea.

There she nightly sits- Far distant on the ruddy tide, deaf to all remonstrances — to all A black ning sail is seen to glide ; threats-and feeds the Beacon-fire,

Loud bursts their eager, joyful cry, and the fire in her own faithful heart. Their hoisted signal waves on high, Behold, and hear her speak-but not

And life, and strength, and happy thoughts now-for it is broad daylight beside

return. the Beacon--but in a rustic arbour in

Ter. Is not her voice improved in a Flower Garden, with her attend.

scorn,

be :

day

But none of all their kin are yet return'd, " Aur. Talk not of disappointment : be No, nor shall ever.

assured Ter. Still run thy thoughts upon those Some late intelligence does Ulrick prompt hapless women

To these stern orders. On our seas there Of that small hamlet, whose, advent'rous sails, peasants

Or soon will sail, some vessel which, right To Palestine with noble Baldwin went,

gladly, And ne'er were heard of more?

He would permit to founder on the coast, Aur. They perish'd there ; and of their Or miss its course. But no ; it will not

dismal fate No trace remainid none of them all re- In spite of all his hatred, to the shore, turn'd.

Through seas as dark as subterraneous Didst thou not say so ?-Husbands, lovers, night, friends

It will arrive in safety."
Not one return'd again.
Ter. So I believe.

All the dialogue is full of exquisite Aur. Thou but believest then-?

touches-bold strokes of nature like Ter. As I was told.

these. As, for example, what can be Ed. Thou hast the story wrong.

more beautiful than these lines--yet we Four years gone by, one did return again ; do not remember to have seen them But marr’d, and maim'd, and changed-a quoted ?

woful man. Aur. And what though every limb were

“ Aur. Well, taunt me as thou wilt, hack'd and maim'd,

I'll worship still And roughen’d o'er with scars ?--he did

The blessed morrow, .storehouse of all

good
return.
[Rising lightly from her seat.

For wretched folks. They who lament to.
I would a pilgrimage to Iceland go,
To the Antipodes or burning zone,

May then rejoice ; they who in misery

bend To see that man who did return again, And her who did receive him.- Did re

E'en to the earth, be then in honour robed. ceive him!

0! who shall reckon what its brighten'd

hours Oh! what a moving thought lurks here! How was't?

May of returning joy contain ?

To-morTell it me all :-and oh! another time

row !

The blest to morrow ! Give me your tale ungarbled.”

Cheering, kind

to morrow! Ulrick, the Lord of the Isle, loves

He were a heathen not to worship thee !" Aurora; and, impatient of her inex

Her soul is up, and she says to tinguishable Hope, has threatened to

Terentia
Terentia that night to quench the
Beacon. On being told of that threat,

" Ah! be not stern. Edda will sing the the spirit of Aurora leaps up-and she

song

That makes feet beat and heads nod to its indignantly cries

tune; 6. He does! Then will we have

And even grave Terentia will be moved A noble fire. This night our lofty blaze To think of pleasant things.' Shall through the darkness shoot full many

[Edda sings. a league Its streamy rays, like to a bearded star, Preceding changeful-ay, and better times. “ Wish’d-for gales the light vane veering, It may, in very truth. O, if his bark Better dreams the dull night cheering; (For many a bark within its widen'd Lighter heart the morning greeting, reach

Things of better omen meeting ; The dark seas traverse) should its light Eyes each passing stranger watching, descry

Ears each feeble rumour catching, Should this be so-it may-perhaps it Say he existeth still on earthly ground, will.

The absent will return, the long, long lost O, that it might !_We'll have a rousing

be found.. blaze. Give me your hands."

“ In the tower the ward-bell ringing,

In the court the carols singing; Terentia, as well she might, mildly Busy hands the gay board dressing, rebukes such wild fancies--and warns Eager steps the threshold pressing, her against the aggravated sharpness Open'd arms in haste advancing, of disappointment,

Joyful looks through blind tears glancing;

SONG.

my care

66

a

life:

The gladsome bounding of his aged hound, Aur. Lamented he shall be ; but from i Say he in truth is here- our long, long lost is found.

Dismiss'd as are the dead-that is impos

sible. “ Hymned thanks and bedeemen praying, Tér. Nay, listen to advice so wise and With sheathed sword the urchin playing ; needful! Blazon'd hall with torches burning,

It is the friend of Ermingard who says, Cheerful morn in peace returning ; Let him within thy mind be as the dead. Converse sweet that strangely borrows Aur. My heart repels the thought : it Present bliss from former sorrows,

cannot be. Owho can tell each blessed sight and sound, No; till his corse bereft of life is found ; That says, he with us bides, our long, long Till this is sworn, and proved, and witlost is found.”

sonnessid to me,

Within my breast he shall be living still. Mean-while, the Holy Legate, on his

Ter. Wilt thou yet vainly watch night way to Rome, has been driven on the

after night Isle, and a noble stranger in his train

To guide his bark who never will return ? solicits an interview with Aurora-as

Aur. Who never will return ! And the friend of Ermingard. Their meet- thinkest thou ing is such as Joanna alone could have To bear me down with such presumptuous conceived--and after a while Aurora words? says:

Heaven makes me strong against thee,

There is a Power above that calms the “ Aur. Bade thee! is he then at hand ?

storm; Gar. Ah, would he were!

Restrains the mighty; gives the dead to 'Twas in a hostile and a distant land, He did commit to me these precious to

I will in humble faith my watch still keep; kens,

Force only shall restrain me. Desiring me to give them to Aurora,

Gar.' Force never shall, thou noble, And with them too, his sad and last fare.

ardent spirit! well.

Thy gen'rous confidence would almost Aur. And he is dead !

tempt me Gar. Nay, wring pot thus your hands :

To think it will be justified. He was alive and well when he intrusted

Aur. Ha! say’st thou so? A blessing

rest upon thee With what I now return.

For these most cheering words!. Some [Offering her a small casket.

guardian power Aur. Alive and well, and sends me back Whispers within thee.- -No; we'll not

despair." Gar. He sent them back to thee as Ulrick's wife;

Night descends, and the Beacon For such, forced by intelligence from blazes-and Bastiani, a friend of Ul. hence

rick's, and of Aurora's too, enters, sayOf strong authority, he did believe thee: ing to the fishermenAnd in that fatal fight, which shortly follow'd,

" A boat near to the shore, He fought for death as shrewdly as for In a most perilous state, calls for assist

fame. Fame he indeed hath earn'd.

Who is like thee, good Stephen, bold and Aur.

But not the other ? skilful ? Ah do not say he has! Amongst the slain Haste to its aid if there be pity in thee, His body was not found.

Or any Christian grace. I will, meanGar. As we have learnt, the Knights tine, of blest St John

Thy Beacon watch, and, should the lady Did from the field of dying and of wounded come, Many convey, who in their house of cha- Excuse thy absence. rity

Here is, indeed, a splendid, noble fire, All care and solace had ;, but with the Left me in ward. It makes the darkness names,

round, Recorded as within their walls received, To its' fierce light opposed, seem thick and His is not found; therefore we must ac- palpable, count him

And closed o'er head, like to the pitchy cope) With those, who, shrouded in an unknown Of some vast cavern. fate,

Enter AURORA, TERENTIA, and Viola. Are as the dead lamented, as the dead, Viol. A rousing light! Good Ste. For ever from our worldly care dismiss d. phen hath full well

me

my tokens !

ance:

Obey'd your earnest bidding.–Fays and Bast. 'Tis true, fair Lady: I have witches

been, ere now, Might round its blaze their midnight re- Where such a warning light, sent from velry

the shore, Right fitly keep.

Had saved some precious lives; which Ter.

Aye; thou lov'st makes the task wilds and darkness,

I now fulfil more grateful. And fire and storms, and things un- Aur. How many leagues from shore sooth and strange :

may such a light This suits thee well. Methinks, in gaz- By the benighted mariner be seen ? ing on it,

Bast. Some six or so: he will descry Thy face a witch-like eagerness assumes. it faintly, Viol. I'll be a goblin then, and round Like a small star, or hermit's taper, it dance,

peering Did not Aurora say we thus should hold From some caved rock that brows the This nightly vigil. Yea, such were her dreary waste; words.

Or like the lamp of some lone lazar. Aur. They were light bubbles of some house, mantling thought,

Which through the silent night the That now is flat and spiritless ; and yet, traveller spies If thou art so inclined, ask not my Upon his doubtful way. leave,

[As th y begin to occupy themselves Dance if thou wilt.

with the firs, the sound of distant Viol. Nay, not alone, sweet sooth! voices, singing in harmony, is heard Witches themselves, some fiend-like under the stage as if asc nding the partners find.

cliff. Ter. And so may'st thou. Look you- Aur. What may it be? der ; near the flame

Viol. The songs of paradise, A crested figure stands. That is not But that our savage rocks and gloomy Stephen.

night Aur. (eagerly.) A crested figure ! So ill agree with peaceful soothing Where?

bliss. O call to it!

Ter. No blessed spirits in these evil [Bast. comes forward. days Ter. 'Tis Bastiani.

Hymn, through the stilly darkness, Aur. Aye, 'tis Bastiani :

strains of grace. 'Tis he, or any one ; 'tis ever thus ; Aur. Nay, list; it comes again. So is my fancy mock’d.

[Voices heard nearer. Bast. If I offend you, madam, 'tis Ter. The mingled sound comes nearunwillingly.

er, and betrays Stephen has for a while gone to the Voices of mortal men. beach

Viol. In such sweet harmony ! To help some fishermen, who, as I I never heard the like. guess,

Aur. They must be good and holy Against the tide would force their boat who can utter to land.

Such heavenly sounds. He'll soon return; meantime, I did en- Bast, I've surely heard before treat him

This solemn chorus chanted by the To let me watch his Beacon. Pardon me; knights, I had not else intruded; though full oft The holy brothers of Jerusalem. I've clamber'd o'er these cliffs, even at It is a carol sung by them full oft, this hour,

When saved from peril dire of flood or To see the ocean from its sabled breast field. The flickering gleam of these bright Aur. The Knights of blest St John flames return.

from Palestine! Aur. Make no excuse, I pray thee. I

I

Alas! why feel I thus ? knowing too

well By good Terentia thou dost wish me They cannot bring the tidings I would well,

hear. Though Ulrick long has been thy friend.

[Chorus rises again very near. I know

Viol. List, list! they've gain'd the A wanderer on the seas in early youth summit of the cliff: Thou wast, and still canst feel for all They are at hand; their voices are dis

storm-toss'd On that rude element.

Yea, even the words they sing.

am told

tinct;