with certainty, till such time as the tinctly. The position in which to November 10. On CowPER, and the Word TRA Ν SIR, MONTANE. On the 25th of October, Mr. Loft mentioned that a very fine opportunity presensed itself for observing the Comet, on the preceding Saturday night; tolerable also on the night of the 25th. Yesterday evening, he adds, it appeared in 48 hours to have advanced more than 10 deg. in declination, and about 3 in right ascension. Nucleus very brilliant, and train exceedingly so. Fully 4 length, about 1 broad, fanning out and incurvated upwards, with a shorter branch extending on the upper side. A fine meteor was visible in the field of the telescope, on Saturday, with the Comet for a second or or two. This night it appears nearly Of this word tramontane, I believe stationary in N. declination, and re- that Cowper knew not the meaning: trogade in right ascension. It seems it is not indeed an English expression by these and all circumstances, to be at all. Johnson has it not. It is deturning round in its orbit, and to be rived from the Italian, Tramontano, passing its perihelion. Position: which signifies the North-wind, so Sunday night, 25th Oct. W. of Her- called in Italy, and in the Meditercules, and above it about 1°. ranean, because it comes from be IN turning accidentally the other day over the Task" of Cowper, I meet with the following passage, in Book IV. which is to me, I confess, inexplicable. Speaking of those "happier days," celebrated by poets, those Arcadian scenes that "Maro sings,” "Ard Sidney, warbler of poetic prose," He regrets that they are for ever in gone, and then adds, .. these Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief.” It was also observed on the 26th of yond the mountains. How Cowper, October, about half past six in the who was so perfect a master of his na evening, by a capital instrument, in tive language, should use a word so the hands of a very able astronomer, laxly, I am at a loss to conjecture; to whom the tail appeared evidently and I am equally at a loss to conceive curved, from which he inferred it was for what other word, in sound or spelthen in the perihelion. ling, he could have mistaken it. If It has since become barely visible any of your correspondents can exto the naked eye, but by the aid of plain this matter for me I shall be telescopes it may be seen very dis- much obliged to them. Before I close this letter, permit to further mine; and in the smile me to say a few words upon another that brightened my countenance, they line in the above quoted passage. read the only reward they asked for unbounded love and affection. What"Sidney, warbler of poetic prose." ever could adorn my mind, or add to I doubt much whether Cowper the graces of my person, was procurever rd Sidney, for if he had, he ed with lavish fiberality; and I may, could hardly have been so infatuated without unseemly vanity, affirm, that as to call the heaviest and most dull my progress kept pace with their exerof all styles "poetic prose." There is tions. As I grew up, mental and boa fashion in every thing, and it was dily accomplishments grew with me, once much the fashion to praise all and while l'excited the envy of my own that was old in literature; Cowper sex, I saw, with rapture, the admiraprobably caught the mania, and be- tion of the other. Those quick-springstowed that extravagant eulogy upon ing feelings of nature which take posthe language of a work excellent session of the bosom at that period of enough for the times it was written life, when first the dawning passion of in, but at all times destitute of poetic love finds aliment in the mind, mountspirit. The fact is, it is much easier ed with abounding vigour in my heart; to praise than to read six hundred and I was, from principle, little soliquarto pages of Sir Philip Sidney's citous to disguise their existence. prose. I remain, Sir, &c. Cambridge, Nov. 5, 1807. THE CONTEMPLATIST. * No. V. Virtue, in my opinion, was founded CRITO. upon self-estimation; I loved it, not as a barren duty, but as a sweet companion, that cheered my path of life, and shed lustre wherever she trod. Her dictates were obeyed from the strong conviction I felt, that my own Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter happiness, my own worth and dignity annos. Ν TO THE CONTEMPLATIST. were essentially interwoven with their preservation. I stood in awe of myself, not of the world; I laboured to IN attempting to address you. I feel secure the peace of conscious recti tude, without resting it upon the basis of opinion. It was thus that I accounted virtue, and I felt secure in my own power all the awkwardness and diffidence of conscious inability; yet the strong desire I have to give vent to the emotions that now oppress me, urges me to forego my native timidity, and to My father was anxious to see me hope from your generosity, at least, married in a manner suitable to my the small consolation which can result birth and fortune. Ah! hapless from the declaration of virtue and the words! How many human victims sorrows of repentance. My confi- have bled at pride's gorgeous shrine! dence is increased when I remember How many sorrowing hearts have apan expression in your third number proached the altar, sickening at their (September, p. 227) where you affirm own fortitude, obeying the false nothat "to lift your voice against aggres- tions of parental authority, and wision and cruelty of any description, thering in the bloom, because torn will always be to you an occasion of from that happy spot where they triumph and delight." If truth and could have flourished in peace and sincerity dictated those words, with a loveliness. Strange! that in the most most piercing sense of wretchedness momentous action of our lives, and in I avow, that in what I now have to which we alone are to be made haprelate you will find but too much py or miserable, the power to will room for the indulgence of so honor- should be denied us! that cold, unfeelable a joy. ing age should step into the chair of I am the only daughter of opulent youth, and decide for a feeling heart, and respectable parents: I was their a heart full of warmth, and love, pride and delight; the wealth they and sensibility, from the narrow possessed seemed to give them no calculations of avarice, or the empty happiness but when it was employed phantoms of pride. Is not this a ty ranny most hateful? Is it not a was passing round me, till the fullusurpation against which the voice of toned organ awoke me to recollecnature exclaims, and reason frowns tion and myself. I arose and joined upon as monstrous? the congregation in the psalm;-was 'Yes, Sir! It was my father's resolu- I deceived, or did I hear a more than tion that I should marry according to human voice that seemed to soar my birth and fortune. But while he above the rest; I paused-my ear diwas waiting to match me like a rected my eyes-'twas the stranger, scanty shred, to suit me at all dimen- whose tones, so sweetly musical, stole sions, to fit me in every point, my like a soft slumber o'er my soul, and own heart turned purveyor, and left me again insensible to all but the singled out an adored object, whose gentle conflict in my own breast. name, whose memory, even yet, fills The service past, I lost this object of me with anguish and contrition. Oh newly-created desire in the moving Henry; were it possible that at this crowd, but I saw him as he rose from moment you could behold me; that his seat, cast a look towards me, which you could see my pallid cheek, my seemed to answer back the thoughts wasted form, my dull and languid that filled my mind. eyes; those eyes, which you have so I returned home pensive and deoften sworn, kindled higher raptures jected. My languid appearance exin your bosom than beatitude can cited the tender enquiries of my pa give; could you see them now drop rents. To elude a painful explana tears even at the recollection of your tion, or a disingenuous prevarication, name, as fast as summer clouds distil I sought my own chamber, and intheir showers, one pang would smite you in your gay career, and drown your mirth in momentary sorrow and dismay. But I reproach you not; 'twas yours to forge the snares that circumvented me, and having gained your prize, to throw it like a froward child away, dulged a melancholy luxury of thought not far removed from perfect bliss. The week passed in a painful alternation of strong passions; and, as Sunday approached, I hailed it as a day that was to liberate my heart from insupportable bondage. The wishedfor morn arrived. Never before did Henry de la Cour I first saw at religion appear to me half so lovely or church. Holy and sacred was the half so amiable. The hours seemed spot; and my thoughts were like intolerably long from breakfast till them. I gazed and loved. It was at the bell tolled; and when, at last, I that moment I felt, for the first time, set out for church, my steps seemed all the tumultuous sensations that tardy, and the distance encreased. In crowd to the heart, when the wander- my mind I had passed the porch ere [ ing fire that rages through our viens, had scarcely quitted the threshold of directs all its rays to one centre. Did my own door; and when at length I my eyes at that instant speak intelli- entered the aisle, my eyes wandered gently the strong emotions of my with fearful eagerness to the spot soul? Yes! they must; for I fixed where the last Sunday I had looked their ardent gaze with such devouring myself away. He was not there. I warmth upon him, that the stranger sought the image of my thoughts blushed. Heavens! can I ever lose through every part, but saw him not; the recollection of that moment? I the service commenced; I was dissee, even now, the mantling tinge turbed, and could scarcely pay a despread o'er his youthful cheek, giving cent attention to the duties of the new lustre to his fine dark eye, shad- place. I was lost in conjecture. ed as it then was by locks of auburn Should I ever behold him again? hair, that hung graceful o'er his manly Was he perhaps a stranger, passing forehead; he leaned forward to con- through the town, and only there by ceal the quick alarm which nature had accident? Or could modest diffitaken, and bent his look upon the dence be so predominant in his nature bible; I was immoveable; I was lost; that he dreaded a repetition of those I knew not that it was myself which blushes I had already occasioned? caused the emotion I admired; for These, and a thousand other thoughts still I gazed, unconscious of what passed rapidly through my mind, while my eyes were wandering from seen each other but once, and that in place to place, in the fond hope of yet a public church, yet we seemed to meeting their adored object. But it know that we must not part; the was vain, and I quitted the church de- blush had settled on the stranger's jected and oppressed. heart, and written there, in flaming characters, sentiments of love; the eager gazings of my enraptured sight had drawn such matter in, that now I stood like one bereft of sense. The evening was calm and fine; I walked into the fields that I might allay the restlessness of my bosom, by the contemplation of the placid scenes of nature. I had a favourite walk, arched over with embowering trees, where time had carved a seat for meditation, out of the decayed trunk of a time-smitten oak. Here I had often sat in times past, wrapt in delightful thought, when yet my bosom was a stranger to the tormenting fire that now possessed it; when my mind was as a peaceful lake that gave back, upon its calm surface, the perfect image of the surrounding objects; not as now, ruffled by storms and vexed with agitation. I cannot, neither were it necessary, recall how we gradually subsided into discourse, wandering those paths once sacred to my own solitary step, while the pale moon arose upon our yet unfinished discourse. Oh! those were sweeter hours, and left a sweeter relish on the sense of memory than ever before gladdened a human heart! Each word he uttered fell like the softest notes of music on my soul, diffusing peace and rapture. I listened, and my ears drank his speech even as the thirsty earth imbibes the I sat down and hoped to find the blessed rains of heaven; I trembled peace I was wont to meet with there. lest he should cease, and when he Vain and senseless hope! To me the did, every thing seemed blank in natrees no longer blossomed-the land- ture. My heart, which never yet scape was no longer sweet; my eyes had throbbed with love, now laid itwandered undelighted over those self before his altar, and owned no charms of nature on which they erst other power. Henry! that heart was had dwelt with a child's fondness. It pure, and might have dignified your was then that I fully felt what before choice. I had only believed: that "The mind is its own place, And in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven!" It was in this first conversation that I learned his name was Henry de la Cour; that his father was a half-pay officer of small fortune; that he himself was not independent, but destined to acquire subsistence in some honorable profession. To me all this was nothing; I thought only of Henry. While I remained wrapt in these musings, my attention was suddenly roused by a rustling noise that was near me. I turned round, and saw a man forcing his way through the op- At length we parted. I returned posite hedge. Somewhat alarmed, I home, and found that some alarm had hastily quitted my seat to return home. been excited by my unusual stay. The person having disengaged him- My presence, however, dissipated self, and seeing my precipitate re- every fear; and my parents, believing treat, approached towards me, apolo- that I had been tempted by the finegising for the interruption he had been ness of an autumnal evening, made guilty of. I turned to acknowledge no enquiries. Happily for me: or his politeness;-it was the stranger! the first fruits of my newly-awakened I was pleased, alarmed, confused; passion must perhaps have been aand our situation was mutual. Ne- lie! for how could I have told my ver before did I behold the pure elo- father, what he would have been unquence of nature speak so intelligi- able to comprehend? bly-it was her unmasked workings I will not, Sir, extend my narrative that rose into our cheeks, our eyes, by a minute detail of all the interthat seemed to free the bounds of views we afterwards had. Suffice it time, and bade us view each other as to say, that when at length I deemed something mutually dear. Though it prudent to disclose the connexion we had never spoken, though we had to my father, and explained the birth and expectations of my Henry, he passed. Much was he moved, yet sternly reproved me, and forbad my much he strove to hide it; he bowed seeing him again; "for I must mary to a fate which he deemed irrevosuitably to my birth and fortune." cable, and talked of parting. Parting! If ever pity flowed for any human Oh! what an icy current seems to creep being, I then deserved it. What! through a lover's suddering frame, forsake my Henry! forget, utterly when his unwilling ears catch that annihilate all those endearing visions melancholy sound! I answered by of future joy that had so long floated my tears: they spoke intelligiblybefore my fancy, and decked my fu- and since our hearts, so closely linked, ture path of life! Play a subtle wo- could bear no thoughts of parting, man's part, and put affection off and 'twas but to bind them closer by the on even as my garment, and obedient marriage vow, and then, should a to a father's bidding! Impossible! father's rigid bosom deny a sanction, and wherefore? Could stern autho- to court our fortune through the sparity impose a harsher mandate, had cious world! The thought was quick froward nature kindled in my breast as lightning that informed both our love for some worthless, undeserving minds: Henry urged; and, with afobject? Harsh even then it might fected coyness, I gave the willing asbe, but could not be unjust;-now, sent which was to seal my future bliss. reason, humanity, honor loudly pro- Every thing was pre-arranged; I left claim against it, What is that mad my father's dwelling with my future infatuation which would thus tyran- husband! nise over the finest feelings of the That father is now dead. It were heart? Feelings, which even they an unholy office for me to arraign his who own them, hope not to control. memory. I too shall find that obliI would not arm the pert and wan- vions peace which the grave alone ton fury of licentious passion against can give. Yet, when I look back, the sober counsel of a father's power; and call to mind what agonies I have but I would for ever condemn, and, endured; what sorrows I have suf were it in my power, annihilate that fered; what tears I have shed; and unjust supremacy which would de- how meekly I have borne the insultcide for the heart of youth in a step ing taunts, the piercing scorn, and the which concerns their happiness alone, and which, when taken from obedience, and not from inclination, too often consigns the meek sufferer to helpless anguish and unavailing sorrow. Humanity shudders to recollect how many victims have bled at the altar of parental authority, and wasted life in pining hopelessness of grief. gibing contumely of an unfriendly world: when I think that my days have been spent in wretchedness, and my nights devoted to solitary anguish; that my frame has wasted beneath the torturing conflict of my mind; that every hope, which so gaily danced before my eyes in my morn of life, has been blasted, withered by the unI needed not to think upon the sub- fruitful grasp of poverty; and that ject. My secret resolution was form- my unjoyous life has been unblessed ed even at the very moment when I by a single ray of comfort-when I heard my father's stern command. think of this, and think too that all To renounce Henry, was, I felt, im- has flowed from the unnatural tyranny possible; to wed him with a parent's and inflexible severity of a fatherblessing was equally so: driven to tell me, who will dare to raise the the extremes of endurance, I resolved hand of accusation against me, though to resign the balance into the hands I should disturb the ashes of that of nature, and follow her dictates. father by my execrations and my I anticipated indeed their character; curses? but I forbore to quit the station which society has assigned to our sex, and appeared to follow with reluctance, while my heart and wishes took the lead. I communicated to Henry what had Here I stop. In my next you shall know the conclusion of the suffer ings of London, Hy-street, JULIA |