Angel of morn! whose beauteous home In light's unfading fountain lies; Whose smiles dispel night's sable gloom, And fill with splendour earth and skies, While o'er the horizon pure and pale, Thy beams are dawning, thee I hail. The star that watches, pure and lone, In yon clear heaven so silently, Looks trembling from its azure throne Upon thy beaming glories nigh; And yields to thee first-born of day, Reluctantly its heavenly sway. Sweet spirit, with that early ray, Which steals so softly through the gloom, Trembling and brightening in its way, What beauties o'er creation come; Ere thy unclouded smiles arise In all their splendour through the skies. The rosy cloud—the azure sky, Earth—ocean, with its heaving breast, Where thy bright hues reflected lie, And there in varying beauty rest, Rejoice in thee; and from the grove, To hail thee, bursts the voice of love. Eternal beauty round thee dwells, And joy thine early steps attends, While music wildly breathing swells, And with thy gales of perfume blends: Pure, beautiful you smile above, Like youth's fond dreams of hope and love. Thy skies of blue, thy beaming light, Thy gales so balmy, wild, and free, Thy lustre on the mountain's height, Have charms beyond all else for me; Whilst my glad spirit fain would rise To hail and meet thee in the skies.

SYLVA.

NOTES OF A READER

BRITAIN'S HISTORICAL DRAMA

We understand Mr. Pennie's design, in this volume, to be the chronological arrangement of certain incidents of each king's reign in a series of National Tragedies. There are four such tragedies in the present portion, commencing with Arixina in which figure Julius Caesar, Cassfelyn, and Cymbaline, and extending to Edwin and Elgiva: the titles of the intervening pieces are the Imperial Pirate and the Dragon King. There is much wild and beautiful romance in the diction, but we take the most attractive portion to be the lyrical portion, as the Chants, Dirges, and Choruses. We recommend them as models for the play-wrights who do such things for the acting drama, and if the poetship to a patent theatre be worth acceptance, we beg to commend Mr. Pennie to the notice of managers. The poet of the King's Theatre figures in the bills of the day, and yet he is but a translator.

It is difficult to select an entire scene for quotation, so that we take a specimen from Arixina:

CHORUS OF BARDS

DIRGE

SEMI CHORUS

Mightiest of the mighty thou! Regal pearl-wreaths decked thy brow; On thy shield the lion shone, Glowing like the setting sun! And thy leopard helmet's frown, In the day of thy renown, O'er thy foemen terror spread, Grimly flashing on thy head. Master of the fiery steed, And the chariot in its speed,— As its scythe-wedged wheels of blood Through the battle's crimson flood, Onward rushing, put to flight E'en the stoutest men of might,— Age to age shall tell thy fame; Thine shall be a deathless name! Bards shall raise the song for thee In the halls of Chivalry.

GRAND CHORUS

His shall he a noble pyre! Robes of gold shall feed the fire; Amber, gums, and richest pearl On his bed of glory hurl: Trophies of his conquering might, Skulls of foes, and banners bright, Shields, and splendid armour, won When the combat-day was done, On his blazing death-pile heap, Where the brave in glory sleep! And the Romans' vaunted pride, Their eagle-god, in blood streams dyed, Which, amid the battle's roar, From their king of ships he tore; Hurl it, hurl it in the flame, And o'er it raise the loud acclaim! Let the captive and the steed On his death-pile nobly bleed; Let his hawks and war-dogs share His glory, as they claimed his care.

SEMI-CHORUS

Silent is his hall of shields In Rath-col's dim and woody fields, Night-winds round his lone hearth sing The fall of Prythian's warlike king!— Now his home of happy rest Is in the bright isles of the west; There, in stately halls of gold, He with the mighty chiefs of old, Quaffs the horn of hydromel To the harp's melodious swell; And on hills of living green, With airy bow of lightning sheen, Hunts the shadowy deer-herd fleet In their dim-embowered retreat. He is free to roam at will O'er sea and sky, o'er heath and hill, When our fathers' spirits rush On the blast and crimson gush Of the cloud-fire, through the storms, Like the meteor's brilliant forms, He shall come to the heroes' shout In the battle's gory rout; He shall stand by the stone of death, When the captive yields his breath; And in halls of revelry His dim spirit oft shall be.

GRAND CHORUS

Shout, and fill the hirlass horn, Round the dirge-feast quaff till morn; Songs and joy sound o'er the heath, For he died the warrior's death! Garlands fling upon the fire, His shall be a noble pyre! And his tomb befit a king, Encircled with a regal ring Which shall to latest time declare, That a princely chief lies there, Who died to set his country free, Who fell for British liberty; His renown the harp shall sing To mail clad chief and battle-king, And fire the mighty warrior's soul Long as eternal ages roll!

The Notes to each Tragedy are very abundant. Indeed, they are of the most laborious research. We quote an extract relative to "grinning skulls" as terrifically interesting:

"The British warriors preserved the bones of their enemies whom they slew; and Strabo says of the Gauls (who were, as he informs us, far less uncivilized than the Britons, but still nearly resembled them in their manners and customs,) that when they return from the field of battle they bring with them the heads of their enemies fastened to the necks of their horses, and afterwards place them before the gates of their cities. Many of them, after being anointed with pitch or turpentine, they preserve in baskets or chests, and ostentatiously show them to strangers, as a proof of their valour; not suffering them to be redeemed, even though offered for them their weight in gold. This account is also confirmed by Diodorus. Strabo says that Posidonius declared he saw several of their heads near the gates of some of their towns,—a horrid barbarism, continued at Temple-bar almost down to the present period."

Lastly, Speaking and Moving Stones:

"Girald Cambrensis gives an account of a speaking-stone at St. David's in Pembrokeshire. 'The next I shall notice is a very singular kind of a monument, which I believe has never been taken notice of by any antiquarian. I think I may call it an oracular stone: it rests upon a bed of rock, where a road plainly appears to have been made, leading to the hole, which at the entrance is three feet wide, six feet deep, and about three feet six inches high. Within this aperture, on the right hand, is a hole two feet diameter, perforated quite through the rock sixteen feet, and running from north to south. In the abovementioned aperture a man might lie concealed, and predict future events to those that came to consult the oracle, and be heard distinctly on the north side of the rock, where the hole is not visible. This might make the credulous Britons think the predictions proceeded solely from the rock-deity. The voice on the outside was distinctly conveyed to the person in the aperture, as was several times tried.'—Arch. Soc. Ant. Lond. vol. viii.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 19, No. 534, February 18, 1832

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STANZAS TO THE SPIRIT OF MORNING

(For the Mirror.)

NOTES OF A READER

BRITAIN'S HISTORICAL DRAMA

CHORUS OF BARDS

DIRGE

SEMI CHORUS

GRAND CHORUS

SEMI-CHORUS

GRAND CHORUS

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