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V.

Two sparklers from their fountains sprung
Like dewy drops on blue-bells hung:
'Not love thee!' murmured she again,
'I am unkind, ungrateful then;
For ever when I dwelt with thee,
Thou like a brother wast to me;
Oh! think not, though my foolish tongue
Reproached thee, that my heart is free;
Forgive! — forgive me! -- I was wrong;
Yes! I do love — even when I chide,
And wish thee ever by my side!

I gazed into her eyes, to seek
Some image of the pang I felt;
Some foot-prints there, however weak,
That showed the god within her dwelt :
For love, though oftent strangely blind,
Is keen to mark and know his kind;
Howe'er remote the sail unknown,
He sees it first, and knows his own.
But in her eyes' calm, azure sea,
No bark of hope appeared to me;
Nor would the dimmest speck emerge
From all th' horizon's distant verge:
Then dropped my head in anguish there;
Sunk hopeless, helpless in despair.
No kiss, no last embrace, I took,
But with one agonizing look,
I rushed, and left her, wild with wo,
Alarmed at throes she could not know.
She loves me, yet it is not love-
Why is it thus, ye heavens above ?
Speak! hold! I'm tortured so to-night,
I know not how or what I write!

She loves me, yet it is not love;

She springs to meet my face,
And still my anxious, long delay

Reproves with tenderest grace:
Ah! nought such willing favors prove:
She shuns me not she cannot love!

July 24.
Why am I thus unloved-unblest?
Am I more worthless than the rest ?
I find, in others' happier fate,
Heart linked with heart, and mate with

mate: Like coupled birds they sport and sing, I am the only lonely thing! Am I a fool ? that all should shun, Or madman wild, or wretch undone; Or cynic, who disdains to please, And cannot feel – oh! none of these! There, there - my tell-tale mirror shows The bitter spring of all my woes: Behold that poor unwinning face! Beggared of every charm and grace That bids the eager wishes rise, And chains the spirit through the eyes. Sweet features those, which on me glare! Oh! what do they among the fair ? No more!- that hateful head remove ! It can have nought to do with love!

July 22

I.

She loves me, yet it is not love,

Her eye with kindness beams, And at my lightest touch of wo,

Pours out its pitying streams: But oh! it burns not with the glow Which eyes on fire with passion show!

Sad fate! to drag through life with pain
This charmless body like a chain :
Unblest, uncheered, to roam along,
With none to love! Oh! I am wrong!
My mother! thou wilt not despise
Thy hapless boy: thy partial eyes
Still find redeeming trails in me
Dim lights, no other eyes can see.
Then let the world forsake me quite,
And turn as from a fright their sight,
In thy dear arms, still fondly spread,
I'll hide my sad, offensive head,
And feel, the sorer my distress,
Thy deeper gush of tenderness.
Earth fails, and only hearts above
Can match in truth a mother's love :
Oh! tis a gentle halo-light,
Unnoticed when our heaven is bright,
But when the storm is hovering nigh,
And weaving mists bedim the sky,
Then, then it is that heavenly ray
Circles us with its soothing sway,
And gilds the gloom it cannot chase,
With such a mild, endearing grace,
The very clouds grow welcome there,
Which such a precious garland bear.

II.

She loves me, yet it is not love;

Her sinile is ever sweet,
And breaks in happy circling curls,

Whene'er our glances meet :
But still, 't is not the anxious smile
That joys, yet trembles all the while.

III.

She loves me, yet it is not love:

Her cheek, that scarcely glows, Blooms at our meeting, with a hue

Fair as the wild-briar rose : Not such the lightning blush that starts In quivering gleams from stormy hearts.

July 27.

IV.

FAREWELL! then, to the sweetest dream

That ever lover's brain possessed; Farewell! to love's dim-clouded beam,

That late my growing feelings blest.

She loves me, yet it is not love;

Her own is music's voice, And ever of its gentlest words,

Gives me the sweetest choice: But ah!- 't is not the broken tone That springs from love, and love alone!

II.

Sad, in my early spring, to meet

So rude a dash of winter's chill;

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Farewell ! thou sweet and blessed light!

Tho' now for my poor hopes too high, Thee, following thy pure course of right

I still may reach beyond the sky !

END OF JOURNAL.

TIME dragged my heavy heart along,
Though still my early scenes among;
Though oft with her, even by her side,
Bereft of hope, my passion died.
'T was a sweet dream of rainbow hue,
Which hope around her presence threw :
Though still her charms were showered

around,
Hope was the sun the rays that found;
Which all those hues of glory shed,
That formed the halo round her head :
That sun was set, and all the rain
Of charms poured dimly round in vain.
To mychanged eye those charms did show
Like flowers that shut in darkness grow,
Uncolored by the quickening light;
Leaf, blossom, stem, one tintless white:
The form was graceful as before,
The bloom, the glory, was no more!
Years passed: my spirits rallied quite;
She married, and I saw the sight
That once had rent my heart in twain,
With scarce a shudder-chill of pain;
And that slight quiver was alone
Born of remembered feelings gone.
Doubtless there are, who deem it strange
A heart that truly loved could change;
Who hold, one love should bind us fast
With ties unslackened to the last;
Be't as it may, or ill, or well,
What is, not what should be, I tell.
Yet are there times when thrills will start
Like lightning freaks from brain to heart,
And wake the joys of that sweet time,
Of budding feeling's happy prime.
The sheen of tresses in the winds,

The peal of bell that early tolled, The flower, the song she loved of old, Will touch the secret spring that binds

The treasures of the heart like gold : Ay, oft the overflowing store Bursts of itself the prison door ; Now! now it opes ! I see the stream, The boat, her form, the moonlight beam; And hark! that dear, that tender strain, Now trembles through my frame again, As though some demon-hand essayed, And on my living heart-strings played ; Wringing a thrilling music thence, That almost renders mad the sense ; And now it faints- the vision dies, My soul exhausting as it flies, As when awoke by morning beam, Torn from some bright bewildering dream Of gilded barges, dancing seas, Fair forms, and streamers in the breeze; And I am on the world's bleak shore, As cold, as callous, cast once more!

I.

Though dark the doom I may not flee,

Unloved, though loving, still to pine, 'Tis something left to hcar, to see,

The bliss which never must be mine.

II.

Though not to me from love's deep wound

Thy words their faltering music bear, 'Tis sweet to list, although the sound

Lull hope to sleep, and wake despair.

III.

Though not for me those eyes' soft rays,

That snowy hand, that rosy lip; Not wholly curst, I still can gaze,

Where I may neither touch nor sip.

IV.

O! let me woo thee like the star

That spots the heaven o'er yonder hi", Which though no warmth it sheds so far,

I'll worship for its brightness still.

BND OF 'FIRST LOVE.'

THE TRIAL BY JURY.

It is not our purpose in this article to go into any profound investigation of our subject, either as to its origin or its general history. If we were writing for lawyers such a course would be worthless, for it would be asking them to travel over ground already familiar; and to others it might be worse than worthless, because it would necessarily involve a great deal of technical learning which they have no desire to study, and which would be of very little practical advantage after it was acquired. Our main object is to touch upon its prominent feature, and if possible to unsettle some of the prejudices which have, in our opinion, done infinite mischief to the system ; so far forth, we verily believe, as to endanger its stability.

In common with every friend of well-regulated freedom, we claim the right to appreciate the value of a trial by our peers. We look with as much reverence on the 'trial by jury,' as the most enthusiastic of its admirers. We think it capable of becoming the safe-guard of the citizen, and we believe, furthermore, that it has been a shield of protection to the unjustly accused. It is, for aught we know, the 'palladium of liberty.' Sure we are, that it may be, under rational regulations. It has undoubtedly rescued the innocent from undeserved punishment, and if it has too frequently interposed between justice and the rogue ; if it has very often stepped between the gallows and the most deserving candidate for its first honors,' the circumştance is not ascribable to the general character of the system, but to its faults. The system is excellent, but its blemishes are to be blamed with the more freedom, as they do harm in a good cause, and render even a praiseworthy institution odious, by doing all they can to discredit what is in itself worthy of all praise. In short, the trial by jury is a privilege of inestimable value, but our mode of conducting it is in the highest degree absurd.

It is not our wont to quarrel with antiquity, or to feel favor for modern innovation, in any shape. The.march of improvement' is too rapid altogether, to suit either our tastes or our habitudes; and as a lawyer, loving the profession to which we were bred, it must be a very glaring defect in the common law principles and practices of the science, which could lead us, at any rate, into the desire, or even the willingness, to see them superseded by any change of form, or novelty of administration. We shall claim, therefore, at least the merit of sincerity in the remarks we make, and we hope at the same time so to conduct the discussion, as to convince the reader that our propositions have been well considered.

Our present business is with the principle, or rather desecration of principle, which requires UNANIMITY IN THE VERDICT. That principle has been rotten,

from its first adoption, and is abundantly more so now than ever. The very reasons that might have been urged in its favor some half a dozen centuries since, are among the strongest that could be adduced against it in the present state of society, and under the meliorated and more enlightened' ideas of modern times.

While government was arbitrary, and while the prince and his

minions were in constant warfare with the people ; when regal power, and regal power alone, made up the main spring of authority ; it was undoubtedly of great consequence to the subject to hold this barrier between himself and the royal prerogative. It was a protection of potent force. He could not be punished for crime, real or imaginary, against the crown, but by the unanimous decision of his peers ; and of course the chances of unjust conviction were very much diminished by the requirement that the whole pannel of twelve men should pronounce upon his case, instead of a majority. In such times, it is conceded that the system was favorable to liberty, and the circumstance may in some measure justify the eulogium bestowed upon this mode of trial; especially when it is contrasted with the absurdities of other modes in vogue during the darker ages of English jurisprudence. Compared, for instance, with the 'wager of battle, with the 'fire and water ordeal,' by which Queen Emma singed her slippers ; compared with the peine forte et dure, in which the prisoner was pressed to death, upon the presumption that he was guilty because he chose to stand mute under the accusation against him, the trial by jury may very well have been claimed as a 'palladium ;' under whatever form of absurdity it may have been framed or conducted. It is our object, however, to prove that the principle has no possible application to our state of civilization, and our modifications of legal polity; and in carrying out our views on this subject, we shall confine ourselves strictly to two points.

First, that there is no magic in the number twelve; but that a jury composed of nine, eleven, thirteen, or fifteen, would be abundantly preferable ; and,

Secondly, that the requirement of unanimity in making up a verdict, is alike at war with common sense, common justice, and with the well known operations of human nature ; involving a profound absurdity upon its very face, and calling upon mankind for the performance of a moral impossibility.

The primary proposition is only necessary to be hinted at, and is merely mentioned first, for the sake of an orderly consideration of the subject. If we succeed in establishing the second branch of the argument, we carry the other with it, of course. If it be true that the unanimous voice of a jury ought not to be required, it will follow that the number twelve has no particular virtue in it, and that the Nembda of the Teutons has more of antiquity than of intrinsic value about it. The English writers, and especially Sir William Blackstone, in tracing the history of the system, show us clearly enough how it happened that this particular number chanced to be hit upon, and none of them seem to insist upon it as essential to its constitution. We intend ourselves to show that it is an essential defect.

Should unanimity be required ?

In the first place, such a requirement is directly in the teeth of human nature itself. No twelve — no three men, were ever yet congregated upon the globe, whose minds coincided. They may chance to agree upon an isolated point; they may come together on a given proposition; but no plurality of mere men can interchange opinions during half an hour, with an honest concurrence in each others' views;

and however courtesy and good feeling may seem to assimilate them, they differ; deferentially, perhaps, but still they differ. To suppose that a dozen men may come to the same conclusion on the clearest case that may be submitted to their judgment, is to look for a mental phenomenon which the law exhibits very little wisdom in calling for. Who of us can converse with one of our best friends, on any but the simplest subject, without differing with him? Who ever yet communed with the most congenial minds, without encountering discrepancies of opinion ? Has it fallen to the lot of any three of our friends to discuss a topic of interest, involving a question of any complication, with entire unanimity of view ? We venture to say they never did ; and it is hardly possible they ever can. How then, let us ask, is it to be expected that twelve men, brought together at random, without any congeniality of thought; discordant in disposition, wide apart in all their modes of looking at things ; different in mental temperament, in education, association, and habit, can perform a miracle in the jury box, and there jump at once to the same conclusion on a case involving probably every complication of consideration? The supposition is preposterous, and so is the system that depends upon it for the due administration of justice! But, these are abstractions ; let us look at the subject in a less general view. What is the practical operation of our jury system?

We hesitate not to say that it is equally militant with the republicanism which we profess so much to reverence, and with all the ends of substantial justice; alike repugnant to the general spirit of our institutions, and to the wholesome dispensation of equal laws. What is the character of this system ? How does it work in practice? Is the verdict of the jury the judgment of the twelve 'peers who compose the panel, or is it the major voice of those men? It is neither the one nor the other, except by the merest accident; and it rarely speaks, even nominally, the opinion of the wbole body, without the exercise of a gambling resort to chance, or a fraudulent compromise with conscience. Wretches sometimes

‘hangthat jurymen may dine.' In other words, juries are urged into unanimity by their appetites, and agree to think alike, lest their dinner should get cold. They coincide rather than go hungry, and under the judicial dread of starvation, sometimes substitute a concurrence of stomach for the identity of opinion required of them in the rendition of a verdict; or rather, they make the exigencies of the one, a legal excuse for endangering the salvation of their souls in pretending to the other. It were strong language to use, we acknowledge, but, it is a settled opinion with us, that as much felony is committed within the jury boxes, as is brought before them for trial! At any rate, more perjury is there perpetrated, than is ever put regularly on trial before courts of justice ; and most of this is brought about by the obstinacy or stupidity of the minor number. It is not often that the jury decides the case. haps a single one of the number!

A single juror cannot, to be sure, give a substantive verdict against the opinions of his eleven compeers, but he can always, and very

It is per

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