What is the condition of the country-seat of the absentee proprietor? The mansion-house deserted and closed; the approaches to it ragged and grass grown; the chimneys, "those windpipes of good hospitality," as an old English poet calls them, giving no token of the cheerful fire within; the gardens running to waste, or, perchance, made a source of menial profit; the old family servants dismissed, and some rude bailiff, or country attorney, ruling paramount in the place. The surrounding cottagers, who have derived their support from the vicinage, deprived of this, pass into destitution and wretchedness; either abandoning their homes, throwing themselves upon parish relief, or seeking provision by means yet more desperate. The farming tenantry, though less immediately dependent, yet all partake, more or less, in the evil. The charities and hospitalities which belong to such a mansion lie dormant; the clergyman is no longer supported and aided in his important duties; the family pew in the church is closed; and the village churchyard ceases to be a place of pleasant meeting, where the peasant's heart is gladdened by the kindly notice of his landlord.

It is the struggle against retrenchment, the "paupertatis pudor et fuga," which has caused hundreds of English families, of property and consideration, to desert their family places, and to pass year after year in residence abroad. At the close of each London season, the question too often occurs as to the best mode of evading return to the country; and the sun of summer, instead of calling back the landlord to his tenants, and to the harvests of his own lands, sends him forth to the meagre adventures of continental roads and inns.—Quarterly Rev.

SOLILOQUY

THE KING OF DARKNESS

On the Fallen Angels

They're gone to ply their ineffectual labour,— To sow in guilt what they must reap in woe,— Heaping upon themselves more deep damnation. Thus would I have it.—Little once I thought, When leagued with me in crime and punishment They fell,—condemned to an eternity Of exile from all joy and holiness— And the first stains of sinfulness and sorrow Fell blight-like o'er their cherub lineaments— Myself the cause—Albeit too proud for tears, Yet touch'd with their sad doom, I little thought I e'er should hate them thus.—Yet thus I hate them, With all that bitter agony of soul Which is the punishment of fiends. Alas! It was my high ambition, to hold sway, Sole, paramount, unquestion'd, o'er a third Of Heaven's resplendent legions:—Power and glory Dwelt on them, like an elemental essence That could not be destroyed.—I could not deem That aught could so extinguish the pure fire Of their sun-like beauty—yet 'tis changed!— I gain'd them to my wish, and they are grown Too hateful to be look'd on.—Thus I've seen The frail fair dupe of amorous perfidy, The victim of a smile,—by man beguiled— Won to debasement, and then left in loathing:— Alas! I cannot leave my fatal conquest!— Man! would I were the humblest mortal wretch, That crawls beneath yon shadowing temple's tower, Under the sky of Canaan; so I might Lay down this weight of sceptred misery, And fly for ever from myself and these! But Pride reproves the wish; and—it is useless; The unatonable deeds of ages rise Like clouds between me and the throne of Grace. I may not hope,—or fear,—still unsubdued, As when I ruled the anarchy of Heaven, I stand in Fate's despite,—firm and impassive To all that Chance, and Time, and Ruin bring. —In that disastrous day, when this vast world Shall, like a tempest-shaken edifice, Rock into giant fractures—as the sound Of the Archangel's trump, upon the deep, Bids fall the bonds of nature, to let forth Destruction's formless fiend from world to world, Trampling the stars to darkness,—Even then, Like that proud Roman exile, musing o'er The dust of fallen Carthage, I shall stand, Myself a solemn wreck, calm and unmoved Among the ruins of the works of God. And my last look shall be a look of triumph O'er the fallen pillars of the deep and sky; The wreck of nature by my deeds prepared— Deeds—which o'erpay the power of Destiny.

Blackwood's Magazine

THE GATHERER

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles." SHAKSPEARE.

ON A PICTURE OF HERO AND LEANDER

By T. Hood

Why, Lover, why Such a water-rover? Would she love thee more For coming half seas over? Why, Lady, why So in love with dipping? Must a lad of Greece Come all over dripping? Why, Cupid, why Make the passage brighter? Were not any boat Better than a lighter? Why, Maiden, why So intrusive standing? Must thou be on the stair, When he's on the landing?

Страница 11 из 13

Назад 1…10 11 12 13 Далее

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 337, October 25, 1828

AI-разбор доступен после входа

О книге

Читать онлайн

CURSES OF ABSENTEEISM

SOLILOQUY

THE KING OF DARKNESS

On the Fallen Angels

Blackwood's Magazine

THE GATHERER

ON A PICTURE OF HERO AND LEANDER

By T. Hood

Вам также может понравиться

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 279, October 20, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 262, July 7, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 264, July 14, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 276, October 6, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 385, August 15, 1829

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 399, Supplementary Number

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 273, September 15, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 582, December 22, 1832

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 268, August 11, 1827

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 331, September 13, 1828

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 333, September 27, 1828

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13. Index to Volume 13