Tales need study, and they well repay one for his efforts to understand the language of his time. The production of a well-developed intellect, like Paradise Lost, these Tales are a fit representative of the great Chaucer; the result of a determination to give form and stability to the English language; a work wrought out of the rough materials of a superstitious age; a column not to crumble!

Such are his poems; we read not far in them before we see, with D'Israeli, the 'Sire of English poetry kindling the cold ashes of translation into the fire of invention; from cloudy allegory breaking forth into the sunshine of the loveliest landscape-painting; and from the amatory romance gliding into that vein of humor and satire which in his old age poured forth a new creation.'

We behold him a philosopher, looking out over mankind; a poet, haunting the wildest solitudes of Nature; a transcriber of her beauties and her glories, a painter of the passions and workings of the soul Himself a man mild and gentle, his mind was cheerful and serene, his heart a warm one, his manner far from reserve or arrogance, fond of convivials, of expensive habits, an eager and enthusiastic student of Nature and the human heart. Like Shakspeare, in this last quality lay his success. He surpassed all his predecessors in the elegance, elevation, perspicuity and harmony of his versification; in fine, he showed the lustre and nobleness of the true poet in an age almost barbarous; and we think of him as of some of the master-spirits who immortalized Greece and Rome, with astonishment and delight. He pictured life and true emotion:

'He stooped to truth and moralized his song.'

Hence it is he merits the remembrance of a grateful world. His defects are made visible by the brightness of his excellence, yet like the sun's spots; hence we have passed most of them by unheeded. Gower was indeed a poet, but a dwarf by his side. Chaucer, like a Titan, piles up his thoughts high as frondosum Olympum;' and if he does not grasp 'the lightnings of creative Jove, and speak the words that call spirits and mortals and worlds into existence,' he yet stirs our feelings, and makes us acknowledge that he did

'get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone'

right nobly. Be it that some want poetry that will flare upon them like the broad sun as he sinks to rest, that will take stern hold of the soul; they may yet admire the star which glitters in the far-off vault, and love the vine which creeps up in beauty as they pluck its fruit. The painter's canvass shall decay and perish, the sculptor's column shall lie in ruins, music's voice shall be still; yet the poet who dips his pencil in the life-blood of the heart shall bring out forms and colors whose truth and loveliness will be noticed and felt wherever such a heart may throb. His ear may be dull, his eye glassed and chill, his heart cold in death, but his

'Reliques bear a charmed life,
And speak though he be silent.'

Chaucer needs not the laurels which he gathered in military service to wear about his brow; his cup is full; and could works of man purchase exemption from the penalty affixed to the guilt of life, he surely made a glorious entrance into immortality. He tore no tender heart asunder and left it to bleed in mortal agony in do. mestic life; and had he left behind him in his own works no evidence of resentment and indignation toward Gower, at one time his best friend, not all the efforts of enemies to cover up his name and character by a load of infamy would ever have served to make the heart, with the smallest amount of charity in it, believe that his star does not shine as fair as that of any hero who has illumined the pathway of mankind through a world of darkness and of guilt. Let his failings be forgotten, and his memory be dear to all who glory in speaking the English tongue. If his works are a speck thrown on infinitude, they are yet a monument in whose chambers we may sit and decipher the thoughts engraved on its massy walls by one of the unforgotten dead. Praise then the hero

How desolate the region where the sunlight never falls;
Its darkness how mephitic! how its gloominess appals!
No verdure pranks its bosom, and no bird of cheerful song,
To break the painful silence, doth its melody prolong.

More gloomy is the realm where the seeds of MIND are sown,
But Ignorance with vices hath its borders overgrown;
No flowers of moral culture there the balm of health exhale,
The rank and deadly nightshade flings its poison on the gale.

There cold and scaly reptiles that by Superstition bred,
Are on the slime of Passion in its fattening freedom fed,
Holding their horrid banquet 'neath the fossil tree of life,
Wage ceaselessly and silently a self-consuming strife.

Then let the light be scattered where the Darkness now abides,
Which Error with his minions, like a ghostly spectre strides ;
And where is seen the barrenness and desolating gloom,
Shall sound the voice of Gladness and appear the vernal bloom.

The forms of angel brightness that so beautify the mind, Where Truth has poured its lustre and its jewelry enshrined, Shall people every realm where the Passions have their birth, And like her ancient Eden, then, shall blossom all the earth. Buffalo, (N. Y.,) 1849.

LEAVES FROM AN AFRICAN JOURNAL.

BY JOHN CARROLL BRENT.

OUR host having taken his seat on one of the carved stools brought out here for our use, and his visitors arranged in their respective places, his ministers, medicine-man, keeper of the harem, the bearer of his staff of office, somewhat resembling a shepherd's crook, and carved rudely on the handle, and his messenger, with the message-cane in his hand, all squatted themselves around him, while another man, a butler, or maître d'hotel, I suppose, brought gin, brandy, French liqueurs, etc., on a large plated tray, or waiter, which, after a glass of water had been first handed around, to keep, as they say, the head and stomach cool for 'palaver,' were offered for our refreshment. all the glasses were supplied, the cabocere would rise, and advancing toward us, with a jovial smile and graceful attitude, touch the glasses of those of his guests who were nearest where he stood, with his own, as in France and on the continent, and then all would drain them to the bottom.

When

On being informed by one of our party that the commodore and some of our officers would like to pay a visit, did circumstances permit, to the King of Dahomey, he promptly replied that his master would be very happy to see us. And if all, or even a small portion, be true of what we have heard of this monarch, his capital and people, it would be a rare treat indeed to make the excursion. The distance is only three days' journey, and that in the most luxurious of all styles of travelling, in hammocks which the bearers carry about six or seven hours during the day, avoiding the heat and fatigue after eleven or twelve o'clock. The governor also apologized for the scantiness and neglected condition of his costume, stating that while the king is out of his house, on the war-path, or otherwise, as he has been for the last forty days, his official representatives are not allowed to change their dress, shave or clean themselves, during such excursion or foray. How long this 'taboo' on the toilet is to hold, no one can imagine; but it is to be hoped, for the benefit of the cabocere and his fellow sufferers, that the return of the royal absentee may be speedy and prosperous. The clay-smearing of their foreheads by the royal agents, we were told, is a ceremony always practised upon ception of news from the king, or at the mention of his august name, and hence is it that the sign' must be pretty frequently displayed on the persons of his slaves. And yet, though the highest native dignitary in the land is so infinitely below the Fetiche king, that, like the rest of his kind, he is but an abject, dirt-eating slave; still as the nominal representative of royalty and divinity, a homage, base and degra ding, is paid him by his inferiors, which, in our republican way of viewing things, however odd and interesting, can but appear superstitious and debasing. Thus, while we were engaged in partaking

·

the re

of the cabocere's liquors, and interchanging palaver, some dozen or so natives suddenly made their appearance, and casting themselves in the dust, with deep prostrations, repeated salams, and clapping of hands, paid their lowly reverence, and as suddenly retired from the

scene.

We had now come to the end of our interview, and rising from our seats, we resumed our returning route, escorted by the stately governor, and attendant suite, even out into the street, where, with a hearty grasping of hands, and the usual snapping of fingers, we parted with Abbas, much pleased and gratified with our hurried visit, and the strange things we had witnessed.

The balance of my story is soon told. Proceeding to the French fort, we again met a kind reception, and rich in presents and good wishes, about two, P. M., once more entrusted ourselves to our luxurious hammocks and trusty bearers, for the returning passage of the dark lagoon. Naught occurred to mar our return trip, or detract from the pleasure, comfort and safety of the whole excursion. But as the tide was higher in the lagoon than when we came through the previous day, it would have been a severe trial to delicate nerves to find one's self suspended on the heads of naked savages, either feeling the inky water oozing in beneath, or lifted in no comfortable or graceful position on brawny shoulders, where a false step, a slip of hand or head, might spill you into an element where swimming might be a thing to think of, but not to practise, and a filthy strangulation within the compass of probable events. But thanks again to our faithful Wydahns-passed the perils of the watery journey, behold us on the beach once more, and soon transported, safe, but not innocent of a ducking from the heavy rollers, through, I might almost say, a mountain surf, into our expectant boat. And as we pulled slowly to the ship, our good friends and hosts on shore spoke for their kind feelings and wishes through the ready battery, which roared out their loud adieu. Waving hats and kerchiefs, with many a hearty cheer, we rendered back the compliment, and soon were welcomed back by friends and messmates, as men restored from some strange and perilous adventure. And now that all the excitement is over, and the visit paid and well enjoyed, let us trust that not a man of all our party shall have to pay with fever his frolic on the shore, but have additional cause hereafter to congratulate himself that he shall have it in his power to say, I was one of those who saw and heard the strange men and things at Wydah.

Before winding up my day's narration, I must not omit to say, as said Lander, at Badagry, that 'It is the custom in this place, that when a man cannot pay his respects in person to another, he sends a servant with a sword or cane, in the same manner as a gentleman delivers his card in England.' Instances of this description we observed in abundance, and the message-cane' is as sure a passport and protection as the signet ring of the Middle Ages, or the Legalization or Visa of modern times. Again, though we saw none of them, we were told that the cabocere employs a number of women as bodyguard and soldiers; and it is asserted, that on one occasion, when the