able height, and nearly one hundred yards in breadth. This is the place where Beauchamp made his observations, and it is certainly the most interesting part of the ruins of Babylon; every vestige discoverable in it declares it to have been composed of buildings far superior to all the rest which have left traces in the eastern quarter: the bricks are of the finest description; and notwithstanding this is the grand storehouse of them, and that the greatest supplies have been and are now constantly drawn from it, they appear still to be abundant. But the operation of extracting the bricks has caused great confusion, and contributed much to increase the difficulty of decyphering the original design of this mound, as in search of them the workmen pierce into it in every direction, hollowing out deep ravines and pits, and throwing up the rubbish in heaps on the surface. In some places they have bored into the solid mass, forming winding caverns and subterranean passages, which, from their being left without adequate sup. port frequently bury the workmen in the rubbish. In all these excavations, walls of burut brick laid in lime mortar of a very good quality are seen; and in addition to the substances generally strewed on the surfaces of all these mounds, we here find fragments of alabaster vessels, fine earthenware, marble, and great quantities of varnished tiles, the glazing and colouring of which are surprisin, fresh. In a hollow near the southern part I found a sepulchral urn of earthenware, which had been broken in digging, and near it lay some human bones which pulverized with the touch." The third and last ruin on the ea tern side of the Euphrates, is that stupendous heap called by the natives MUJELIBE, meaning overturned, according to an old Asiatic tradition that it was subverted by thunder and storms from hea ven. This is thought by Major Rennel and others to be the remains of the Temple of Belus, although Mr. Rich seems rather inclined to fix its site at a place lower down, on the western side of the Euphrates, where a still nobler ruin, called the BIRS NEMROOD, or Palace of Nimrod, stands in solitary grandeur. Both accounts are much too long for insertion here, and we must, on that account, refer our readers to the volume itself; but they will be amply paid for their trouble by the peru sal. The great subject, therefore, of debate that [still remains for decision among antiquarians, is, whether, in that stupendous mass of ruins called the MUJELIBE, or in that still vaster mass the BIRS NIMROOD, we have found the actual remains of the tower of Belus, or, in more popular language, BABEL. In the one, or the other, they must exist, for nothing of similar magnitude is to be found in all the adjoining district; no object exalts itself with such impressive grandeur, or exhibits such immense quantities of the true kiln burnt Babylonian brick. Mr. M. concludes this first portion of his volume with the following judicious remarks; with the insertion of which we shall, for the present, take our leave of him. "The result of the preceding cursory survey of the proudest remaining monuments of Asiatic antiquity, seems to be, that, although we have doubtless ascer tained the site, and from evidence both external and internal many of the public edifices, of Babylon: yet the actual extent of the circumference of that great city, from the varying accounts of the ancient historians, remains still disputa ble, and must ever do so, unless the vestiges of its vast walls shall hereafter be accurately traced by still more assiduous local research. If the Birs and Della Valle's ruin, so very distant, were ever included in its walls, the mensurations assigned by Herodotus the Father of History must be resorted to, however apparently incredible, to solve the difficulty: and Herodotus will thereby obtain a new and unfading laurel. In our present state of doubt and uncertainty, and until Mr. Rich shall favour us with the result of those more extended investigations designed by him, it will be safest for us to coincide in the rational conjecture of some able geographers, that those enormous lines of demarca. tion were intended rather to designate the bounds of the District, than of the City, of Babylon. Indeed, on the supposition that the circumference of those walls was enlarged by Nebuchadnezzar, there was the most urgent reason for that district to be well fortified, as well against the ferocious hordes of wild Arabs that hung over it on the western quarter, as the more formidable armies of the Medes and Persians on the northern and eastern limits, who, about that period, were widely extending their conquests in Asia, and under Cyrus, only a few years afterwards, about A.D. 536, actually conquered Babylon itself, and put an end for ever to the Assyrian dynasty." (To be concluded in our next.) Idwal, and other Portions of a Poem; men Occa tages," both in the interest of its narrative, and the harmony of its numbers, as well as in every other requisite of a good poem, far exceeds the two former extracts. The description of Zolfino's introduction to Rosamond, and his necromantic delusions, with all that follows, is admirably told, and must create that effect which the author wished and intended. We have not space to make a long quotation, and it is almost an injury to give a short one: we cannot, however, deny ourselves the pleasure of hazarding the following, which we regret is all our restricted limits will allow.-It forms part of the description of Idwal. "Fair was the youth and gentle; his soft eye Blue as the azure of a summer sky; Those light and gentle limbs, that slender frame Seem'd not a daring spirit to proclaim; Of some vast precipice, a narrow ledge Gave frightful passage to some wondrous scene: In the Preface to these fragments, the author informs us, that they are sent out like the little Montgolfiers with which aëronauts try at once their gas, and the currents of the atmosphere, before they commit themselves to the deep air in a large balloon."-Whether this nouvelle experiment in literature is, or is not, deserving of approval, and imitation, we can scarcely take upon us to decide; much may certainly be urged in advocacy of the measure, but we think not less in favour of an opposite opinion-The Preface goes on to state, that " as yet little care has been bestowed on the correction of trifling errors. sional inaccuracies of style, occasional halling of the verse, feebleness, and even courseness of expression, may be perceived."-This is much less equivocal, as a specimen thus acknowledgedly defective must afford a very unfavorable idea of the two large volumes" promised as its successors, fully agreeing, as we do, with the Author, that have among us too much real talent for it to be possible that mere decent mediocrity should be tolerated." Happily, however, the poems before us deserved not any such severity of selfdepreciation, and the parts already pub And many a fable of tremendous powers, lished give ample promise of future excellence. The first portion, entitled "Idwal," is, in general, highly poctical, both in the tale itself, and in the manner it is told. In some instances, the hero bears, perhaps, too close a resemblance to Beattie's .we 64 Edwin :" and it occurred to us, in reading, that his tragic fate would have excited more interest, and created more effect, had it not been intimated so frequently previous, thus preparing the reader for a denouement which he is all along told is inevitable. The Narration of Brito" is a tale of war and havock, and its horrors are depicted in language to which we are happy in thus offering our meed of general approval; but The Hos Yet would he oft the giddy crags descend, Drench'd with the spray, all footing seem'd And calm, amid the torrent's deafening roar, plore. He knew, and well he loved each spot Mysterious record of some deed of yore, Of fays, and spirits, and gigantic cawrs, knew, And held it impions not to think them true, He heard a spirit in the waving woods, air: Then, as he look'd on all the scene around, Most of our readers will, we doubt not, discern, with us, more than one very near: approach to plagiarism in these lines; but they will also duly appreciate the beauties of a passage quoted at random, and by no means given as the best we could have selected.The remainder of the volume is occupied by a Greek "Carmen Venatorium," entitled, " Gryphiadea," the notes to which display much erudition, and an intimate critical knowledge with classical literature, as do the other notes with Cambrian history and antiquities. We have only further room to notice, that the concluding pieces of these "Portions" are a Latin Ode to the Rev. T. Butt, and "The last Farewell!" which latter piece is given to the public with the author's name, only to preclude its appearance in another, and more "questionable shape." It does not, however, disgrace the former poems, and we look for the publication of the entire work with a confidence of not being disappointed in our very sanguine anticipations both of its desert, and its success. J. T. Lalla Rookh: An Oriental Romance. By Thomas Moore. 4to. 1817. WE Congratulate the author of Lalla Rookh on having produced a work worthy of his talents and his taste, and honorable to his age and country. By his earlier efforts, we had been rather, tantalized than gratified-they discovered to us the golden sands that, to a discerning eye, never fail to indicate the existence of the mine-but the mine itself was rather tracked than wrought-its depth unfathomed-and its treasure unexplored. The present volume contains a cluster of poems appended to an interesting tale elegantly narrated in prose. By this judicious arrangement, Mr. Moore has not only avoided the tedious monotony incident to a long narrative in verse - but he has most happily and gracefully introduced in the series a greater variety of style and description than could have been admitted with propriety into a single poem. The first in the series, and unquestionably the most important, is, "The veiled Prophet of Korassan," founded on a fanatical impostor who once acquired a temporary ascendant in India and Persia. Another poem of equal length is the Fire Worshippers," which exhibits the more generous superstitions of the Guebres, and the unrelenting persecution of their Moslem oppressors. The Peri and Paradise embodies the purer ethics of the Koran which have been derived from the Gospel. The sight of the Haram presents an elegant picture of an Oriental Zenona. Each of these poems has a style appropriate to its peculiar character. In The veiled Prophet of Korassan," we recognise the strong and vivid conceptions of a dramatic poem. Mokanna is an impostor pretending to a divine mission, who allures one sex by professions of patriotism, and seduces the other by the promise of Paradise. Amongst his partizans is the noble Azim, who, after a long interval of captivity, had returned from Greece inflamed with zeal to emancipate and enlighten his country. Anxious to secure his youthful champion, Mokanna admits Azim to his voluptuous Haram, where his virtue is to be assailed by all the arts of seduction, and the omnipotent blandishments of beauty. Surprised, but not subdued, Azim recollects his affianced bride Zelica-little suspecting that she had been the victim of Mokanna's arts, and was at that moment an inmate of those polJuted walls. "Is this then, thought the youth, is this the way To free man's spirit from the deadening With the world's vulgar pomps ;—no, no- He thinks me weak- this glare of luxury So thought the youth; -but, even while he defied This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide Through every sense. The perfume, breath ing round, Like a pervading spirit :-the still sound, i Of falling waters, lulling as the song Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep. 'And music too-dear music! that can touch Beyond all else the soul that loves it muchNow heard far off, so far as but to seem Like the faint,exquisite music of a dream ;All was too much for him, too full of bliss, The heart could nothing feel, that felt not this; Soften'd he sunk upon a couch, and gave His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on Whilst indulging these delicious emo tions, his attention is arrested by a sigh, and he recognizes in the mourner his beloved Zelica. A most affecting interview succeeds: we will not diminish by anticipation the pleasure of the reader in perusing this interesting pathetic tale, in which we alternately discover the energy of Dryden and the tenderness of Otway. The conclusion is inimitably fine, and we should certainly give it pre-eminent precedence over the other poems, but for the disgust intermingled with the horror inspired by Mokanna, which almost exceeds the limit of pleasure. From this objection the poem of the Fire-Worshippers is wholly exempted-the subject is hap. pily chosen to engage our most generous sympathies, yet is perfectly copgenial to the spirit of Oriental poetry. "'Tis moonlight over Oman's sea:, Her banks of pearl and palmy isles Bask in the night beam beauteously, And her blue waters sleep in smiles." 'Tis moonlight in Hormozia s walls, And through her Emir's porphyry halls, Where, some hours since, was heard the swell Of trumpet and the clash of zel, Bidding the bright-eyed sun, farewell;— The peaceful sun, whom better suits The music of the bulbul's nest, Of the light touch of lovers' lutes, To sing him to his golden rest! All hush'd-there's not a breeze in motion; 'The shore is silent as the ocean. If zephyrs come, so light they come. Nor leaf is stirr'd, nor wave is driven;The wind-tower on the Emir's dome Can hardly win a breath from heaven." The daughter of the Emir is introduced with the happiest effect after the description of her ferocious father. "Oh what a pure and sacred thing Is Beauty, curtain'd from the sight Of the gross world, illumining One only mansion with her light! Unseen by man's disturbing eye.The flower, that blooms beneath the sea Too deep for sun-beams, doth not lie Hid in more chaste obscurity!" So, Hinda, have thy face and mind, Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin'd. And oh what transport for a lover To lift the veil that shades them o'er!Like those who, all at once, discover In the lone deep some fairy shore, Where mortal never trod before, And sleep and wake in scented airs No lip had ever breathed but theirs!" 1 A description follows of exquisite, we had almost said incomparable, beauty. "Light as the angel shapes that bless An infant's dream, yet not the less Rich in all woman's loveliness ;With eyes so pure, that from their ray Dark Vice would turn abash'd away, Blinded like serpents, when they gaze Upon the emerald's virgin blaze!— Yet, fir'd with all youth's sweet desires, Mingling the meek and vestal fires Of other worlds with all the bliss, The fond, weak tenderness of this, A soul too, more than half divine, Where through some shades of earthly feeling, Religion's soften'd glories shine, Like light through summer foliage stealing, Shedding a glow of such mild hue, So warm, and yet so shadowy too, As makes the very darkness there More beautiful than light elsewhere!" Hinda receives a visit from her myste rious lover, with whose nanie and coun try she is unacquainted. During this interview, he declares that he is a Guebre, and devoted to that faith which is the object of her father's implacable. enmity. "Yes-I am of that outcast few, He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, From which our fires of worship rise! But know-'twas he I sought that night, When, from my watch-boat on the sea, I caught this turret's glimmering light, And up the rude rocks desperately Rush'd to my prey-thou know'st the restI climbed the gory vulture's nest, And found a trembling dove witbio.” "There's a beanty, for ever unchangingly bright, Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer day's light, Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made lender, Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour. This was not the beauty-oh! nothing like this, That to young NoURMAHAL gave such magic of bliss: But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days, Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies From the lips to the cheek, from the cheek to the eyes, Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams, Like the glimpses a saint has of Heav'n in his dreams! Europ. Mag. Vol. LXXII. July 1817. When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace, That charm of all others, was born with her face; And when angry, -for ev'n in the tranquil. lest climes Light breezes will ruffle the flowers sometimes The short, passing anger but seem`d to awa ken New beauty, like flow'rs that are sweetest when shaken. If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, From the depth of whose shadow, like holy' revealings From innermost shrines, came. the light of her feelings! Then her mirth-oh! 'twas sportive as ever took wing From the heart with a burst, like the wild- Although we have not mentioned in regular order the "Paradise and the Peri," we reserve it as a bonne-bauche, which we presume must be acceptable to every reader. "One morn a Peri at the gate Of Life within, like music flowing; Through the half open portal glowing, Should e'er have lost that glorious place! "How happy, exclaim'd this child of air, Are the holy Spirits who wander there, Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; Though mine are the gardens of earth and |