tween argument, and the appearance | natural history; nor can any study be of it, and who is at all times able to more instructive, or boast of a greater render a reason for his assertions. number of attractions. He should study well that secret of all good writing, the art of condensation; and if he has time, should repeatedly polish his compositions, since the most elegant pieces are usually susceptible of amendment. He should never, if possible, venture upon a commonplace subject, without being able to make some original remarks upon it, or to place the old ones in a better and more imposing manner, for, as Dr. Johnson used to say, the two most engaging powers of an author are, to make new things familiar, and familiar things new. G. M. ORNITHOLOGY.-Hora Subseciva. No. 1. Man, conscious of being unable to attain a competent knowledge of the whole chain of natural objects, spon taneously enters on the study of some one particular branch of natural history;-thus one man makes choice of the enchanting study of botany;-a second, of the less interesting study of mineralogy ;-a third, of the inex haustible study of entomology, or that branch of natural history which treats of insects; whilst a fourth is lost in the enthusiastic pleasures experienced only by the real ornithologist. In the cool of a fine summer's evening, what can be more delightful than a few hours stolen from busy life, and spent in contemplating the beauties of nature, in observing the many different shades of each individual flower, and in partaking of the sweet and de"L'alonette s'élance dans les airs: la co-licious odours which nature scatters lombe quitte sa retraite pour voler sur la plaine fleurie: le rossignol fait entendre des sons mélodieux et plaintifs; et ses tendres accens remplissent les coteaux, les vallons et les bois." STURM. How little do those men know of the innocent pleasures arising from a contemplation of the infinite beauties of nature, who, actuated by a thirst for wealth, or a mistaken desire of pleasure, spend their whole existence without ever participating of the exquisite sensations felt by her votaries. They may read the best authors on natural history, and spend an occasional hour amidst forests, groves, and woods, and feel delighted with the varied music of the feathered choir; they may take a cursory view of the unnumbered productions of the vegetable world, and admire her inexhaustible variety of forms, odours, tints, and colours ;--they may be pleased with visiting the cataract in the vale of Tempe, situate between the mountains of Ossa and Pelion, in Thessaly; or the beautiful and romantic sublimity of the waterfall at Nant Mill, near the Lake Cwellin; but they will never feel the pleasurable emotions felt by those persons who contemplate nature in her infinity of shapes, who are constantly exposed to her influence, whose health suffers not, and whose consciences are healthy. No study contributes more to the preservation of health, than that of through every field and garden, grove and forest? The delightful essence of the new-mown hay;-the exquisite sweetness of the honeysuckle;-the delicious odours of the rose, violet, rosemary, lily, hyacinth, narcissus, jessamine, lilac, polyanthus, and a thousand other flowers, blended toge ther and scattered in every direction. obtrude upon our senses, and lull us into an exquisite delirium. The gay and sprightly gold-finch, and the familiar robin-red-breast, tune their litthe throats;-the mimic bull-finch;— the melodious woodlark;—the inimitable nightingale ;—the lively wren:the shrill sky-lark;-the simple and inoffensive white-throat;-and the shy black-bird, join in the concert, and nature teems with pleasure and delight. Does not the melodious and varied sweetness and strength of the nightingale's voice exceed that of every other bird? Is not the favourite chantress of Milton and Thompson, and of Walton and Pliny, far superior in excellence to the canary, or imitative linnet? How sweet are the varied modulations of her voice!-how touching the risings of the little songster's plaintive strain, and the dying murmurs striking on the greedy ear! The motacilla luscinia, or nightingale, derives its name from the word night, and the Saxon word galan, "to sing." This bird is somewhat larger than the hedge sparrow, and nearly as plain in plumage, but its body is longer, and finely proportioned. Nightingales make their annual visit in England about the first or second week in April, and leave us again about the latter end of August. They build in close quickset hedges, and the females are said to bear the undivided fatigue of incubation. The exquisite strains of the nightingale are acknowledged to be superior to those of every other bird, by every lover of natural music; and in Aleppo there are people who obtain a livelihood by keeping tame nightingales, and letting them out on hire; and so much are they supposed to conduce to the splendour of any public or private entertainment, that the exquisite notes of these universally admired choristers are seldom dispensed with. It is a fact not less curious than it is true, that all the celebrated poets, with one or two exceptions, have conspired in considering the garrulous nightingale a melancholy bird. Thus, Milton, in his beautiful poem, Il Penseroso, describes it in the following lines of poetic excellence : "Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Again : "The sweet poet of the vernal groves Melts all the night in strains of am'rous woe." ARMSTRONG. Another poet says: "As philomel in poplar shades, alone, For ber lost offspring pours a mother's moan, Which some rough ploughman, marking for his prey, From the warm nest, unfledg'd, hath dragg'd awaay; Perch'd on a bough, she all night long complains, And fills the grove with sad repeated strains." I shall now quote a passage from Sir William Jones's Dissertation on the Musical Modes of the Hindus, and then proceed with some furthur observations on European singing birds :"An intelligent person declared, that he had more than once been present, when a celebrated Lutanist was playing to a large company, in a grove near Schiraz, where he distinctly saw the nightingales trying to vie with the musician; sometimes warbling on the trees, sometimes fluttering from branch to branch, as if they wished to approach the instrument, and, at length, dropping on the ground in a kind of ecstasy, from which they were soon raised by a change of the mood." The wood-lark deservedly stands next to the nightingale in pre-eminence. This beautiful bird, unwilling to yield to the superiority of the nightingale, has frequently been known to sing against her for a whole hour. The canary-bird, brought originally from the Canary Islands, and the fly-bird, from America, are considered by some ornithologists as equal, if not superior, to the nightingale and wood-lark. Next to the nightingale and woodlark, the robin-red-breast, the blackcap, the wood-song-thrush, the linnet, the gold-finch, the chaf-finch, the skylark, the wren, and the tit-lark, are esteemed the best English song-birds. There are some people who assert that the tit-lark has not a good voice; but they should not forget that there are many exceptions, and that the song of some of these little birds is nothing inferior to that of the canary-bird. The motacilla rubecula, or robin-redbreast, is too well known to require any description; and it is the great confidence which these birds place in mankind, that has obtained for thema privileged exemption from the wanton cruelties which children are permitted to inflict upon poor inoffensive animals. If we ask any child why he does not murder these birds, or destroy their nests in common with the other inhabitants of the air, he will immediately reply, "Because the robin and the wren Are God Almighty's cock and hen." For beauty of plumage, elegance of shape, and melody of voice, the red-start possesses high claims to our and green-linnet, do not possess any indulgence. The starling, red-pole, considerable talent as singing birds. The motacilla atricapilla, or blackcap, has of late attracted the attention of the lovers of nature's music, many of whom do not seem willing to acknowledge the superiority of the nightingale. Who can listen to the familiar and curious note of the cuckoo, and not feel the liveliest emotions of pleasure? There is not a field, a wood, a grove, or a forest, that is not frequented by some of our favourite singing birds : "Every copse Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush NINI Bending, with dewy moisture, o'er the heads The European singing birds will run From plume to plume, and vary in the sun! And slowly moves amid the waving blaze." was enthusiastically fond: yet surrounded by beautiful scenery, the many instances of affection, and proofs of unalterable constancy, which we have received from her, present themselves to the memory, and create the most chaste, tender, and pleasurable emotions. Deprived of every friend, forsaken by those who seemed to admire us, when rolling in aflaence; or deceived by the artful blandishments of an adored mistress; we still continue to listen with peculiar satisfaction to a tune loved in our happier youth, till the notes are lost in the ecstasy of hearing. Music is a sort of exquisite pleasure, it speaks a universal language, creates an infinity of agreeable emotions, subdues and fascinates the proud and ungenerous, and renders the human soul excessively susceptible of all that is good and noble. Never do I listen to the exquisite notes of the piano-forte, or to the mellow tone of the German-flute, the warbling shake of which is little inferior to the exquisite strains of the feathered inhabitants of the wood, but I am ready to acknowledge the transcendent beauty of the far-famed "When thro' life, unblest we rove, Losing all that made life dear, In days of boyhood, meet our ear; In faded eyes that long have wept." Handsworth Woodhouse, The radiant and resplendent plu- MEMOIRS OF THE LIVING POETS OF (BYRON-concluded from col. 759.) Having made a short stay in the Turkish capital, Lord Byron and his friend passed along the Asiatic shore to the Troad, where our poet had the satisfaction of reading Homer, and comparing his descriptions with the existing scenery of that classic region. On the return of our travellers to Athens, they parted, as Mr. Hobhouse had received a call from England; but Lord Byron was determined to remain in Greece some time longer, that he might perfect himself in the language, and observe many objects of antiquity | character than he deserves; but then which he had hitherto neglected. the fault was his own, and having reDuring his travels, he lost his mother, peated the offence, with the aggravawhose death he lamented in some tion of making all his heroes monsters pathetic verses; and yet, at a subse- of depravity, he had no right to cenquent period, without much regard to sure those who considered him as takconsistency or delicacy, he sketched ing a delight in sketching his own the character of his parent, under the likeness, though in caricature. name of Donna Inez, in his licentious epic of "Don Juan," an act of indiscretion which his greatest admirers will in vain labour to excuse. But what renders these representations still more disgusting, in a moral point of view, is, the open contempt of religious principle, which pervades them all, with an evident aim to confound the distinction of virtue and vice. This may appear to some of the noble lord's admirers a harsh decision, but let them read seriously that part of the second canto of "Childe Harold," where the author affects to moralize upon a skull, found in the ruins of the Temple of Minerva; after which, if they can acquit him of the charge of daring infidelity, nothing will be too difficult for their ingenuity. Soon after the return of the noble lord to England, in the autumn of 1811, he prepared for the press, the two first cantos of a poem, written in the Spenserean stanza, to which he gave the title of "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a Romaunt." This poetical history of the author's travels in Portugal, Spain, and Greece, was so well received by the public, as to pass through six large editions in the course of a few months. Instead, however, of being stimulated by this success, to complete his design, the In the "Giaour," scepticism is carauthor printed soon after, a Turkish ried to its utmost extent, by being tale, with the title of "The Giaour," made predominant over the mind of a which was shortly followed by another monk in a convent, and on a deatheastern story, called "The Bride of bed. Similar impiety prevails in the Abydos," to which succeeded in a "Corsair;" while the "Bride of Abylittle 66 space The Corsair," a narra- dos," like some of the author's subsetory poem, in three cantos, completed quent pieces, exhibits a nauseous in a subsequent piece, entitled combination of sensuality and profaneLara." These performances aboundness, mixed up with the finest descripin splendid beauties, intermingled with tions expressed in a glowing felicity of glaring deformities. numbers. ་་ The most striking defect which runs through them all, is, the want of consistency in the characters, and of lucid arrangement in the relation. The former are mere creatures of the imagination, without any semblance to real life; and the circumstances in which they are placed are equally incongruous. But these improprieties are overbalanced by richness of description, and vigour of expression, by depth of colouring, and liveliness of imagery. The idea of the noble lord in giving his own personal history as the narrative of a profligate, such as Childe Harold is represented, betrayed a strange want of judgment; but it was no less strange that the author should complain of an application, which the whole fabric of the poem made obvious to every reader. This identification of himself with the principal personages of his works, has no doubt led many to form a more harsh opinion of the poet's private Of this utter want of respect for sacred things, the noble lord gave a notable proof in the address which he wrote, soon after his arrival in England, for the opening of the new theatre in Drury Lane. The destruction of a playhouse by a conflagration, and its revival, might have been celebrated without any remote allusions whatever; but if the poverty of the subject was such as to render some imagery necessary, the scriptural history was the last source from whence it should have been drawn. Byron thought otherwise, and hence the feelings of piety were shocked by a comparison of this seat of amusement, to the miraculous column of fire which conducted the children of Israel through the wilderness. Lord Toland, the infidel, wrote a book, to shew that the guiding pillar, mentioned in the Bible, was nothing more than a light carried by an advanced party, well acquainted with the line of march; but no one, except Lord Byron, would ever have thought of bringing together two objects so completely dissimilar (for the sake of poetical illustration) as a theatre and a beacon. After such an irreverent treatment of the inspired history, it could hardly be expected or desired, that the same writer should have exerted his poetical powers in versifying any portions of the sacred writings. The noble lord, however, readily acceded to the wishes of two musical Jews, in composing songs for them on scriptural subjects; to which he, or his friends, gave the title of "Hebrew Melodies." Some of these lyrical compositions are delicately touched, and others display considerable animation; but they are destitute of that devotional spirit, which, to be properly expressed, must be thoroughly felt by a mind submissively intent to the teaching of the "heavenly muse," that "delights in Sion's hill." These Melodies were followed by the publication of two poetical tales, the one descriptive of the "Siege of Corinth," when that city fell into the hands of the Turks; and the other founded on the incestuous conduct of "Parisina," wife of Nicholas d'Este, Duke of Ferrara. The first of these pieces displays the power of the writer in narrating military operations; but the latter poem is of a very equivocal character, and amounts almost to an apology for two atrocious criminals. On the 2d of January, 1815, Lord Byron entered into the state of marriage with the daughter of Sir Ralph Milbank Noel, of Scham, in the County of Durham. By this alliance, his lordship increased his fortune; but though a daughter was born at the end of the same year, the beginning of the next witnessed a separation between the parents, and the departure of the noble poet from the kingdom quickly followed, without any In justice to Lord Byron, however, it should be observed, that he was preceded in a profane application of scripture on such an occasion, by Dr. Garth, whose prologue at the first opening of the Haymarket Theatre began with comparing that "fabric to the infant world, which rose out of chaos!" But Garth was a most determined infidel, and yet a member of that club which was formed to secure our religion and liberties. reason having been ever given for this extraordinary rupture, and no less extraordinary migration. Never, perhaps, did any family quarrel excite a more lively interest than this, owing partly to the veil of mystery that hung over the transaction, and in a great measure to the conduct of the noble lord in publishing two poems, on his domestic circumstances. These performances were of a quite opposite description; but neither of them can be considered as honourable to the mind from whence they issued. The poet's farewell address to his lady, is a tissue of affectation; and the "Sketch from Private Life," is a most venomous satire upon her female friend; so that if the one was designed to heal a breach, the other tended to rekindle animosity. Into the causes of this alienation of affection, it would not be prudent to enter; but it is honourable to the English character to say, that the actress who was supposed to have had more than a common share in this separation, was driven off the stage by the indignant voice of the public. All hopes of a reconciliation being extinguished, the noble lord put his resolution into effect, and after a rapid journey through part of France and the Netherlands, passed along the Rhine to Bâle, from whence he proceeded to Clarens, on the Lake of Geneva, where he took up his residence for some time, attended by a young physician, who had accompanied him from England. At this romantic spot, rendered memorable by the pen of Rousseau, the noble wanderer led a very retired life, shunning society to a degree bordering upon misanthropy, indulging himself chiefly with sailing on the lake, and making occasional excursions among the mountains. Here also he wrote the third canto of his "Childe Harold," in which he gives an account of his visit to the field of Waterloo, and of the observations made by him in his tour to Switzerland. This poem, filled with metaphysical reflections and gloomy ideas, differs essentially, in its construction, from the former cantos, and betrays, throughout; a mind too much distracted to attend calmly the labour of arranging and correcting its conceptions. And yet about the same time the author produced two other compositions, of a different cast, and |