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sure they will pass with no other person.— even of Don Juan, so offerssively degrading as They are so manifestly inconsistent, as mutu. Tom Jones affair with Lady Bellaston. It aliy to destroy each other—and so weak, as is no doubt a wretched apology for the indeto be quite insufficient to account for the fact, cencies of a man of genius, that equal inde. even if they could be effectually combined cencies have been forgiven to his predecesfor that purpose. The party that Lord Byron sors: But the precedent of lenity might have has chiefly offended, bears no malice to Lords been followed; and we might have passed and Gentlemen. Against its rancour, on the both the levity and the voluptuousness--ihe contrary, these qualities have undoubtedly dangerous warmth of his romantic situations, been his best protection; and had it not been and the scandal of his cold-blooded dissipafor them, he may be assured that he would, tion. It might not have been so easy to get long ere now, have been shown up in the over his dogmatic scepticism-his hard-heartpages of the Quarterly, with the same candour ed maxims of misanthropy-his cold-blooded and liberality that has there been exercised and eager expositions of the non-existence of towards his friend Lady Morgan. That the virtue and honour. Even this, however, might base and the bigoted—those whom he has have been comparatively harmless, if it had darkened by his glory, spited by his talent, not been accompanied by that which may or mortified by his neglect-have taken ad- look, at first sight, as a palliation—the frequent vantage of the prevailing disaffection, to vent presentment of the most touching pictures of their puny malice in silly nicknames and vul- tenderness, generosity, and faith. gar scurrility, is natural and true. But Lord The charge we bring against Lord Byron, Byron may depend upon it, that the dissatis- in short, is, that his writings have a tendency faction is not confined to them-and, indeed, to destroy all belief in the reality of virtue that they would never have had the courage -and to make all enthusiasm and conto assail one so immeasurably their superior, stancy of affection ridiculous; and this, not if he had not at once made himself vulnera- so much by direct maxims and examples, ble by his errors, and alienated his natural of an imposing or seducing kind, as by the defenders by his obstinate adherence to them. constant exhibition of the most profligate We are not bigots or rival poets. We have heartlessness in the persons who had been not been detractors from Lord Byron's fame, transiently represented as actuated by the nor the friends of his detractors; and we tell purest and most exalted emotions—and in the him-far more in sorrow than in anger—that lessons of that very teacher who had been, we verily believe the great body of the Eng. but a moment before, so beautifully pathetic lish nation—the religious, the moral, and the in the expression of the loftiest conceptions. candid part of it-consider the tendency of When a gay voluptuary descants, somewhat his writings to be immoral and pernicious- too freely, on the intoxications of love and and look upon his perseverance in that strain wine, we ascribe his excesses to the efferves. of composition with regret and reprehension. cence of youthful spirits, and do not consider

He has no priestlike cant or priestlike revil- him as seriously impeaching either the value ing to apprehend from us. We do not charge or the reality of the severer virtues; and in him with being either a disciple or an apostle the same way, when the satirist deals out his of Satan ; nor do we describe his poetry as a sarcasms against the sincerity of human promere compound of blasphemy and obscenity. fessions, and unmasks the secret infirmities On the contrary, we are inclined to believe of our bosoms, we consider this as aimed at that he wishes well to the happiness of man- hypocrisy, and not at mankind: or, at all kind--and are glad to testify, that his poems events, and in either case, we consider the abound with sentiments of great dignity and Sensualist and the Misanthrope as wandering, tenderness, as well as passages of infinite each in his own delusion—and are contented sublimity and beauty. But their general to pity those who have never known the tendency we believe to be in the highest charms of a tender or generous afiection.degree pernicious; and we even think that it The true antidote to such seductive or revoltis chiefly by means of the fine and lofty sen- ing views of human nature, is to turn to the timents they contain, that they acquire their scenes of its nobleness and attraction; and to most fatal power of corruption. This may reconcile ourselves again to our kind, by listsound at first, perhaps, like a paradox; but ening to the accents of pure affection and inwe are mistaken if we shall not make it in- corruptible honour. But if those accents have telligible enough in the end.

flowed in all their sweetness, from the very We think there are indecencies and indeli- lips that instantly open again to mock and cacies, seductive descriptions and profligate blaspheme them, the antidote is mingled with representations, which are extremely repre- the poison, and the draught is the more deadhensible; and also audacious speculations, ly for the mixture ! and erroneous and uncharitable assertions, The reveller may pursue his orgies, and the equally indefensible. But if these had stood wanton display her enchantments, with com. alone, and if the whole body of his works parative safety to those around them, as long as had been made up of gaudy ribaldry and they know or believe that there are purer and flashy scepticism, the mischief, we ihink, higher enjoyments, and teachers and followwould have been much less than it is. He is ers of a happier way. But if the Priest pass not more obscene, perhaps, than Dryden or from the altar, with persuasive exhortations to Prior, and other classical and pardoned wri- peace and purity still trembling on his tongue, ters. nor is there any passage in the history to join familiarly in the grossest and most prosuch grace

fane debauchery-if the Matron, who has compassion were fit only to be laughed at. charmed all hearts by the lovely sanctimo- In the same spirit, the glorious Ode on the nies of her conjugal and maternal endear- aspirations of Greece after Liberty, is instantments, glides out from the circle of her chilly followed up by a strain of dull and colddren, and gives bold and shameless way to blooded ribaldry ;-and we are hurried on the most abandoned and degrading vices— 'from the distraction and death of Haidee to our notions of right and wrong are at once merry scenes of intrigue and masquerading confounded—our confidence in virtue shaken in the seraglio. Thus all good feelings are to the foundation-and our reliance on truth excited only to accustom us to their speedy and fidelity at an end for ever.

and complete extinction; and we are brought This is the charge which we bring against back, from their transient and theatrical exLord Byron. We say that, under some strange hibition, to the staple and substantial doctrine misapprehension as to the truth, and the duty of the work—the non-existence of constancy of proclaiming it, he has exerted all the powers in women or honour in men, and the folly of of his powerful mind to convince his readers, expecting to meet with any such virtues, or of both directly and indirectly, that all ennobling cultivating them, for an undeserving world; pursuits, and disinterested virtues, are mere -and all this mixed up with so much wit and deceits or illusions-hollow and despicable cleverness, and knowledge of human nature, mockeries for the most part, and, at best, but as to make it irresistibly pleasant and plausilaborious follies. Religion, love, patriotism, ble—while there is not only no antidote supvalour, devotion, constancy, ambition—all aré plied, but every thing that might have operated to be laughed at, disbelieved in, and de- in that way has been anticipated, and prespised !—and nothing is really good, so far as sented already in as strong and engaging a we can gather, but a succession of dangers to form as possible--but under such associations stir the blood, and of banquets and intrigues as to rob it of all efficacy, or even turn it into to soothe it again! If this doctrine stood alone, an auxiliary of the poison. with its examples, it would revolt, we believe This is our sincere opinion of much of Lord more than it would seduce :—But the author Byron's most splendid poetry—a little exaggeof it has the unlucky gift of personating all rated perhaps in the expression, from a desire those sweet and lofty illusions, and that with to make our exposition clear and impressive

and force, and truth to nature, that --but, in substance, we think merited and it is impossible not to suppose, for the time, that correct. We have already said, and we dehe is among the most devoted of their votaries- liberately repeat, that we have no notion that till he cast off the character with a jerk—and, Lord Byron had any mischievous intention in the moment after he has moved and exalted us these publications—and readily acquit him of to the very height of our conception, resumes any wish to corrupt the morals or impair the his mockery at all things serious or sublime, happiness of his readers. Such a wish, in, and lets us down at once on some coarse joke, deed, is in itself altogether inconceivable; but hard-hearted sarcasm, or fierce and relentless it is our duty, nevertheless, to say, that much personality-as if on purpose to show of what he has published appears to us to have “Whoe'er was edified, himself was not

this tendency-and that we are acquainted

with no writings so well calculated to exor to demonstrate practically as it were, and tinguish in young minds all generous enthuby example, how possible it is to have all fine siasm and gentle affection--all respect for and noble feelings, or their appearance, for a themselves, and all love for their kind—to moment, and yet retain no particle of respect make them practise and profess hardily what for them-or of belief in their intrinsic worth it teaches them to suspect in others—and or permanent reality. Thus, we have an in- actually to persuade them that it is wise and delicate but very clever scene of young Juan's manly and knowing to laugh, not only at selfconcealment in the bed of an amorous matron, denial and restraint, but at all aspiring ambi. and of the torrent of “rattling and audacious tion, and all warm and constant affection. eloquence” with which she repels the too How opposite to this is the system, or the just suspicions of her jealous lord. All this temper, of the great author of Waverley—the is merely comic, and a little coarse :-But only living individual to whom Lord Byron then the poet chooses to make this shameless must submit to be ranked as inferior in genius and abandoned woman address to her young -and still more deplorably inferior in all that gallant an epistle breathing the very spirit of makes genius either amiable in itself, or warm, devoted, pure, and unalterable love, useful to society! With all his unrivalled thus profaning the holiest language of the power of invention and judgment, of pathos heart, and indirectly associating it with the and pleasantry, the tenor of his sentiments most hateful and degrading sensuality. In is uniformly generous, indulgent, and goodlike manner, the sublime and terrific descrip- humoured ; and so remote from the bitterness tion of the Shipwreck is strangely and dis- of misanthropy, that he never indulges in sargustingly broken by traits of low humour and casm, and scarcely, in any case, carries his buffoonery ;-and we pass immediately from merriment so far as derision. But the pecu. the moans of an agonising father fainting over liarity by which he stands most broadly and his famished son, to facetious stories of Juan's proudly distinguished from Lord Byron is, begging a paw of his father's dog and re- that, beginning as he frequently does, with fusing a slice of his tutor!-as if it were a some ludicrous or satirical theme, he never fine "hing to be hard-hearted--and pity and fails to raise out of it some feelinge of a generous oi gentle kind, and to end by exciting our or so managed as even to enhance its inerits, tender pity, or deep respect, for those very or confirm its truth. With what different sen individuals or classes of persons who seemed sations, accordingly, do we read the works of at first to be brought on the stage for our mere those two great writers !-With the one, we sport and amusement-thus making the ludi- seem to share a gay and gorgeous banquetcrous itself subservient to the cause of be- with the other, a wild and dangerous intoxinevolence--and inculcating, at every turn, cation. Let Lord Byron bethink him of this and as the true end and result of all his trials contrast—and its causes and effects. Though and experiments, the love of our kind, and he scorns the precepts, and defies the censure the duty and delight of a cordial and genuine of ordinary men, he may yet be moved by the sympathy with the joys and sorrows of every example of his only superior!-In the mean condition of men. It seems to be Lord Byron's time, we have endeavoured to point out the way, on the contrary, never to excite a kind canker that stains the splendid flowers of his or a noble sentiment, without making haste to poetry—or, rather, the serpent that Jurks beobliterate it by a torrent of unfeeling mockery neath them. If it will not listen to the voice or relentless abuse, and taking pains to show of the charmer, that brilliant garden, gay and how well those passing fantasies may be re- glorious as it is, must be deserted, and its conciled to a system of resolute misanthropy, existence deplored, as a snare to the unwary.

( August, 1817.) Manfred; a Dramatic Poem. By Lord Byron. 8vo. pp. 75. London : 1811. This is a very strange—not a very pleasing | ings,—but he treats them with gentleness and -but unquestionably a very powerful and pity; and, except when stung to impatience most poetical production. The noble author, by too importunate an intrusion, is kind and we find, still deals with that dark and over- considerate of the comforts of all around him. awing Spirit, by whose aid he has so often This piece is properly entitled a Dramatic subdued the minds of his readers, and in Poem-for it is merely poetical, and is not at whose might he has wrought so many won all a drama or play in the modern acceptation ders. In Manfred, we recognise at once the of the term. It has no action; no plot-and gloom and potency of that soul which burned no characters; Manfred merely muses and and blasted and fed upon itself in Harold, and suffers from the beginning to ihe end. His Conrad, and Lara-and which comes again in distresses are the same at the opening of the this piece, more in sorrow than in anger- scene and at its closing-and the temper in more proud, perhaps, and more awful than which they are borne is the same. A hunter ever—but with the fiercer traits of its misan- and a priest, and some domestics, are indeed thropy subdued, as it were, and quenched in introducea; but they have no connection with the gloom of a deeper despondency. Man- the passions or sufferings on which the inter. fred does not, like Conrad and Lara, wreak est depends; and Manfred is substantially the anguish of his burning heart in the dan- alone throughout the whole piece. He holds gers and daring of desperate and predatory no communion but with the memory of the war-nor seek to drown bitter thoughts in the Being he had loved; and the immortal Spirits tumult of perpetual contention—nor yet, like whom he evokes to reproach with his misery, Harold, does he sweep over the peopled scenes and their inability to relieve it. These unof the earth with high disdain and aversion, earthly beings approach nearer to the characand make his survey of the business and ter of persons of the drama—but still they pleasures and studies of man an occasion for are but choral accompaniments to the pertaunts and sarcasms, and the food of an im- formance; and Manfred is, in reality, the only measurable spleen. He is fixed by the genius actor and sufferer on the scene. To delineate of the poet in the majestic solitudes of the his character indeed-to render conceivable central Alps-where, from his youth up, he his feelings—is plainly the whole scope and has lived in proud but calm seclusion from design of the poem; and the conception and the ways of men; conversing only with the execution are, in this respect, equally admir. magnificent forms and aspects of nature by able. It is a grand and terrific vision of a which he is surrounded, and with the Spirits being invested with superhuman attributes, of the Elements over whom he has acquired in order that he may be capable of more than dominion, by the secret and unhallowed stu: human sufferings, and be sustained under dies of Sorcery and Magic. He is averse them by more than human force and pride. indeed from mankind, and scorns the low and To object to the improbability of the fiction frivolous nature to which he belongs; but he is, we think, to mistake the end and aim of cherishes no animosity or hostility to that the author. Probabilities, we apprehend, did feeble race.

Their concerns excite no inter- not enter at all into his consideration-his est—their pursuits no sympathy—their object was, to produce effect-to exalt and no envy. It is irksome and vexatious for him dilate the character through whom he was to to be crossed by them in his melancholy mus- interest or appal us—and to raise our concep

tion of it, by all the helps that could be derived Nor flattering throb, that beats with hopes of from the majesty of nature, or the dread of

wishes, s'iperstition. It is enough, therefore, if the

Or lurking love of something on the earth.situation in which he has placed him is con

Now to my task.”—pp. 7, 8. ceivable—and if the supposition of its reality

When his evocation is completed, a star is enhances our emotions and kindles our im- seen at the far end of a gallery, and celestial agination ;-for it is Manfred only that we are voices are heard reciting a great deal of poetry. required to fear, to pity, or admire. If we After they have answered that the gift of can once conceive of him as a real existence, oblivion is not at their disposal, and intimated and enter into the depth and the height of his that death itself could not bestow it on him, pride and his sorrows, we may deal as we they ask if he has any further demand to please with the means íhat have been used to make of them. He answers, furnish us with this impression, or to enable “No, none : yet stay!--one moment, ere we us to attain to this conception. We may re- I would behold ye face io face. I hear (partgard them but as types, or metaphors, or alle. Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds gories : But he is the thing to be expressed; As music on the waters; and I see and the feeling and the intellect, of which all The steady aspect of a clear large star;

But nothing more. Approach me as ye are, these are but shadows.

Or one, or all, in your accustom'd forms. The events, such as they are, upon which Spirit. We have no forms beyond the elements the piece may be said to turn, have all taken of which we are the mind and principle : place long before its opening, and are but But choose a form—in that we will appear. dimly shadowed out in the casual communica

Man. I have no choice ; there is no form on earth tions of the agonising being to whom they Who is most powerful of ye, take such aspect

Hideous or beautiful to me. Let him relate. Nobly born and trained in the castle As unto him may seem most fiving.-Come! of his ancestors, he had very soon sequestered Seventh Spirit. (Appearing in the shape of a himself from the society of men; and, after beautiful female figure.) Behold! running through the common circle of human M. Oh God! if it be thus, and thou sciences, had dedicated himself to the worship Art not a madness and a mockery: of the wild magnificence of nature, and to And we again will be

yet might be most happy.-I will clasp thee.

[The figure vanishes. those forbidden studies by which he had

My heart is crush'd ! learned to command its presiding powers.

(MANFRED falls senseless."-pp. 15, 16. One companion, however, he had, in all his tasks and enjoyments—a female of kindred formance ends with a long poetical incanta

The first scene of this extraordinary pergenius, taste, and capacity—lovely too beyond tion, sung by the invisible spirits over the all loveliness; but, as we gather, too nearly senseless victim before them. The second related to be lawfully beloved. The catas- shows him in the bright sunshine of morning, trophe of their unhappy passion is insinuated in the darkest and most ambiguous terms on the top of the Jungfrau mountain, mediall that we make out is, that she died un- solitude as usual the voice of his habitual

tating self-destruction-and uttering forth in timely and by violence, on account of this fatal attachment—though not by the act of love and admiration for the grand and beauti

despair, and those intermingled feelings of its object. He killed her, he says, not with ful objects with which he is environed, that his hand—but his heart; and her blood was shed, though not by him! From that hour, kindly sympathy with human enjoyments.

unconsciously win him back to a certain life is a burden to him, and memory a torture -and the extent of his power and knowledge "Man. The spirits I have raised abandon meserves only to show him the hopelessness and The spells which I have studied baffle meendlessness of his misery.

The remedy I reck'd of tortured me; The piece opens with his evocation of the It hath no power upon the past, and for

I lean no more on superhuman aid : Spirits of the Elements, from whom he de- The future, till the past be gull’d in darkness, mands the boon of forgetfulness-and ques. It is not of my search.—My mother Earth! tions them as to his own immortality. The And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Moun scene is in his Gothic tower at midnight-and Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye. (tains. opens with a soliloquy that reveals at once That openest over all, and unto all

And thou, the bright eye of the universe, the state of the speaker, and the genius of Art a delight—thou shin’st not on my heart, the author.

And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge

I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath
“The lamp must be replenish'd-but even then Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs
It will not hurn so long as I must watch! In dizziness of distance; when a leap,
Philosophy and science, and the springs

A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bring
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world, My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed
I have essayed, and in my mind there is

Tó rest for ever-wherefore do I pause ?
A power to make these subject to itself-

Ay, But they avail not: I have done men good, Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, And I have met with good even among men

(An eagle passer
But this avail'd not: I have had my foes, Whose happy flight is highest into heaven,
And none have baffled, many fallen before me- Well may'st thou swoop so near me,I should be
But this avail'd not :-Good, or evil, life, Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets! thou art gone
Powers, passions, all I see in other beings, Where the eye cannot follow ihee; but thine eye
Have been to me as rain unto the sands,

Yet piercest downward, onward, or above
Since that all-nameless hour! I have no dread, With a pervading vision. - Beautiful !
And feel the curse to have no natural fear, How beautiful is all this visible world!

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How glorious in its action and itself!

C. Hun.

What is it But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon ? Half dust, half deity, alike unfit

Man. Myself, and theema peasant of the Alps To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, A conflict of its elements, and breathe

And spirit patient, pious, proud and free ; The breath of degradation and of pride,

Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts; Contending with low wants and lofty will

Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils, Till our mortality predominates,

By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
And men are—what they name not to themselves, of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
And trust not to each other. Hark! the note, With cross and garland over its green turf,

[The shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph; The natural music of the mountain reed

This do I see—and then I look withinFor here the patriarchal days are not

It matters not-my soul was scurch'd already!" A pastoral fable-pipes in ihe liberal air,

pp. 27-29. Mix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd; My soul would drink those echoes !-Oh, that I were

The following scene is one of the most The viewless spirit of a lovely sound,

poetical and most sweetly written in the A living voice, a breathing harmony,

poem. There is a still and delicious witchery A bodiless enjoyment-born and dying

in the tranquillity and seclusion of the place, With the blest tone which made me!"-pp. 20—22. and the celestial beauty of the Being who

At this period of his soliloquy, he is de reveals herself in the midst of these visible scried by a Chamois hunter, who overhears enchantments. In a deep valley among the its continuance.

mountains, Manfred appears alone before a

lofty cataract, pealing in the quiet sunshine “ To be thus

down the still and everlasting rocks; and Grey-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines, Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,

says A blighied trunk upon a cursed root,

“ It is not noon-the sunbow's rays still arch Which but supplies a feeling to decay

The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And to be thus, eternally but thus,

And roll the sheeted silver's waving column
Having been otherwise !

O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular,
Ye topling crags of ice! And Aling its lines of foaming light along,
Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail,
In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me! The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death,
I hear ye momently above, beneath,

As told in the Apocalypse. No eyes
Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass,

But mine now drink this sight of loveliness;
And only fall on ihings which still would live; I should be sole in this sweet solitude,
On the young flourishing forest, or the hut And with the Spirit of the place divide
And hamlet of the harmless villager.

The homage of these waters.- I will call her. The misis boil up around the glaciers ! clouds

(He takes some of the water into the palm of his Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, hand, and flings it in the air, muttering the ad. Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell,

juration. After a pause, the WITCH OF THE Whose every wave breaks on a living shore,

Alps rises beneath the arch of the sunbow of Heaped with the damn'd like pebbles--I am giddy!" the torrent.)

pp. 23, 24.

Man. Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light,

And dazzling eyes of glory! in whose form Just as he is about to spring from the cliff, The charms of Earth's least-mortal daughters grow he is seized by the hunter, who forces him To an unearthly stature, in an essence away from the dangerous place in the midst of purer elements; while the hues of youth, of the rising tempest. In the second act, we Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek, find him in the cottage of this peasant, and in Rock'd by the beating of her mother's heart

, a still wilder state of disorder. His host Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow;

Or the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves offers him wine; but, upon looking at the cup, The blush of earth embracing with her heaven,he exclaims

Tinge ihy celestial aspect, and make tame

The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee ! Away, away! there's blood upon the brim ! Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow, Will it then never-never sink in the earth? Wherein is glass'd serenity of soul, C. Hun. What dost thou mean? thy senses Which of itself shows immortality, wander from thee.

I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son
Man. I say 'tis blood—my blood! the pure warm of Earth, whom the abstruser Powers permit

Al times to commune with them if that he
Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours Avail him of his spells—to call thee thus,
When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And gaze on thee a moment.
And loved each other-as we should not love!

Witch.

Son of Earth! And this was shed: but still it rises up,

I know thee, and the Powers which give thee power! Colouring the clouds that shut me out from heaven, I know thee for a man of many thoughts, Where thou art not-and I shall never be !

And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both, C. Hun. Man of strange words, and some half. Fatal and fated in thy sufferings. maddening sin, &c.

I have expected this-what wouldst thou with me? Man. Think'st thou existence doth depend on Man. To look upon thy beauty!--nothing fur. It doth ; but actions are our epochs: mine time ? ther."-pp. 31, 32. Have made my days and nighis imperishable, Endless, and all alike, ag sands on the shore,

There is something exquisitely beautiful, 10 Innumerable atoms; and one desert,

our taste, in all this passage; and both the Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break, apparition and the dialogue are so managed, But nothing resis, save carcasses and wrecks, that the sense of their improbability is swalRocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness. C. Hun. Alas! he's mad—but yet I must not

lowed up in that of their beauty ;-and, withleave him.

out actually believing that such spirits exist Man. I would I were--for then the things I see

or communicate themselves, we feel for the Would be but a distempered dream.

moment as if we stood in their presence.

stream

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