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From Goethe.


VIII. A STRANGER youth from Athens came “ Away-young man-stand far away,

To Connth tho' himself unknown, What pleasure is, I feel not nowRelying on his father's name ;

Joy hath forever fled from me, Nor hospitable ties alone

Scared by a mother's gloomy vow ;Secured him a Corinthian friend,

She feared to die,-my youthful bloom For, plighted by his father's vows, My hopes of love

her stern decree
He longed to see his plighted spouse, Hath destined to a living tomb!
And hence his journey's aim and end.

But shall the stranger welcome be?

Our ancient Gods no longer deign, Or must her love be dearly bought ?

In this dull mansion to reside Alas! a heathen still is he,

But one, who dwells in heaven unseen, And they the Christian faith are taught !

And one, upon the cross who died, And when new forms of faith arise,

Are worshipped with sad rite severe ; How soon love's tender blossom dies,

No offering falls of lamb or steer,
Without a sigh, without a thought !

But human victims suffer here !"

The house in midnight silence lies,
Father and daughters, all at rest !

He ponders with a trembling heart,

Each word that falls upon his ear, Sleep only shuns the mother's

" And art thou then-ah ! sure thou art She rises to receive the guest She leads him to a chamber bright,

My plighted spouse, that meets me here? And wine and bread before him laid ;

Be mine, my love, our father's vow She bows, and wishes him “Good night!” Hath blessed our loves-be mine even now!" IV.

XI. He thought not of the wine and bread, “ Have they not told thee then,” she cried, He only felt a wish for rest

“ That I thy consort may not be At once he flung him on the bed

My sister is thy destined bride ; His weary limb's scarce feel repose, But in her arms, ah ! think of me, When, hush ! the chamber doors unclose, Who in my cell will think of thee, And in there steals a timid guest. Who pine and die with love of thee,

The cold earth soon my woes will hide." V. He wakes and by the lamp's faint light, Behold a maiden tall and fair !

XII. Her veil is white-her robes are white “ No !-never ! -by this lamp I swear,

Black is the band that twines her hair; That glowing emblems Hymen's törch, 'Tis black, but streaked with lines of gold Thou shalt not perish thus from me. She screams, and shudders to behold

Oh! we will seek my father's porch, The stranger youth reclining there,

And from this home of sorrow flee; And, lifting her white arm in air,

Be mine, my love, be mine to-night,

To-morrow's sun will guide our Hight." VI. Exclaims, “ then am I nothing here !

XIII. Guests come and go, and none tells me!

She reached to him a chain of gold, Dark is my chamber, lone and drear,

Of deathless loye a token fair; And here to come is infamy.

He reached to her a silver cup, To wander here is scathe and shame,

Adorned with gravings rich and rare ; Sleep on, young stranger, quietly, And I will vanish as I came !"

“ The cup, my love, I may not take,

But give me, for thine own dear sake,

One only ringlet of thy hair !"
Stay,” cries the youth, “ stay maiden

XIV. As lightly from the couch springs he,

Damp strikes the hour that spirits knowCERES and BACCHUS, lo! are here,

Her eyes with eager pleasure shine, And LOVE, sweet maid, hath come with

Her cheek assumes a sparkling glow, thee,

Her pale lips quaff the blood-red wine; Ah! thou art pale with idle fear,

But vainly may the youth entreat, The Gods are good, and blest are we !" The wheaten bread she will not eat!


She reached the wine-cup to his hand, In the first impulse of his fear

Like her, with eager joy, he drinks, He strove to hide the maiden's face-
He speaks to her with words of love ; In vain he drew the curtain's fold,
On love, on love alone he thinks ;

In vain he strove her veil to place, In vain his warm intreaties prove

Still from his reaching hand she rose,
No words have charms her breast to move Tall and more tall her stature grows.
In tears, upon the bed he sinks !


" Oh, mother! mother !” hollow sounds, She leans above him o'er the couch,

Unearthly, formed each fearful word ; Thy pangs I mourn but cannot heal

“ Thou enviest me this bridal night, What! ha! my limbs have met thy touch, These few short moments of delight, And tell thee what I would conceal ;

To pain am I again restored !
White, white as snow! cold, cold as sleet, And is it not enough that I
Is she whose love thou dost entreat !" For thee in funeral pall should lie ?

For thee in youth should fade and die ?
He strains her in his closing arm

XXIV. With strength that youth and passion gave;

“ Me, from my narrow silent bed, “ Cold as thou art, thy blood shall warm,

Hither a wondrous doom hath driven : Even if thy dwelling were the grave."

Your priests, their mummery song have said, With frenzied clasp of wild desire,

But, oh ! it hath no weight in heaven ! He strains her to his breast of fire.

In vain your mystic spells ye prove !

The grave is cold—but chills not love !
Strange was, I ween, that bridal scene,

For with their kisses mingle tears ;
But what is coldness, what are fears,

“ I was his doomed and destined bride While in her lover's bosom prest,

In days, while Venus' fane still stood, The blood that stirs

But ye your former vows belied, In his veins warms hers,

And sealed your late-learned creed in blood; But, oh! no heart throbs in her breast !

Alas! no heavenly power stood by,

When thou didst doom thy child to die !

Without the door the mother stood,
That under-voice what may it be,

“ And hither from the grave I roam She knows not—and she lingers there,

To seek the joys denied in life ; She listens long and anxiously ;

Hither, to seek my spouse I come Oh, is it, that she hears aright,

To drain his veins, a vampire wife! Voices like lovers', low and light?

His doom is past_his fate severe

For Madness hath been Bride-maid here!

Breathless she stands, and motionless,
Till of these low words satisfied

“Young man, thy life is o'er-the pain The vows of lisping tenderness,

Is on thee that must end in death; The words of lover and of bride Round thee still hangs my fatal chain “Hark! the cock crows-day soon will shine, Thy ringlet I must bear beneath. To-morrow night, again, my love,

Farewell ! farewell ! away! away!
To-morrow night thou wilt be mine."

Yonder the morning rises gray !

The mother hears no more--in wrath “ Hear, mother, hear a last request,

She bursts into the stranger's room ; Build high for us a funeral pile; “ And is there in my house a maid Oh, from that narrow cell released,

Thus shameless, who can thus presume My spirit shall rejoicing smile ; To wanton-with a stranger too ?"

And when the embers fall away, Thus thinks she angrily when, lo! And when the funeral flames arise, By the lamp's decaying glow,

We'll journey to a home of rest, Her own her daughter meets her view! Our ancient gods !mour ancient skies !"


The beings of the mind are not of clay,

Essentially immortal.-CHILDE HAROLD. In your Number for last September by one of our own faculties, one inde, there is a paper entitled, “ David pendent of the will ; that the very act Hume charged by Mr Coleridge with of the mind in thinking is the act of plagiarism from Śt Thomas Aquinas." registry; and consequently, that every It is on the first part of this paper, man bears about in his own bosom the the one in which neither David Hume growing chronicle of his shame or glory. nor St Thomas Aquinas is referred to, It is painful to anticipate the scrutiny that we would make some remarks. of an omniscient judge; but it is an It contains the following paragraph : aggravation of that feeling, to think that

“ Mr Coleridge, therefore, thinks it pro our own minds will be the instrumentof bable, that all thoughts are in themselves revealing and exposing all. That every imperishable, and that, if the intelligent circumstance of our then past life, faculty should be rendered more compre. whether mental or outward, will, at hensive, it would require only a different the dictate of the Almighty, rush forth and apportioned organization ; the body celestial, instead of the body terrestrial, to and stand as apparent as our outward bring before every human soul the collective forms or features now do to each other. experience of its whole past existence. And It is not of this however, but of the all this,” he adds, “perchance, is the dread doctrine of the imperishableness of our book of judgment, in whose mysterious ideas alone, that we would speak. hieroglyphics every idle word is recorded.”

To demonstrate that our ideas are The idea suggested in this last clause imperishable, is, of course, impossible. regarding the book of judgment is strik- The nature of such a subject does not ing, and we think, that as well as by admit of any one perfectly decisive arother circumstances, it is considerably gument; still, however, it is an opifavoured by an expression in scripture. nion which, under slight limitations, It is said, Rev. xx. 12. “ That when

we are inclined to maintain. the small and great stand before God

Impressions which the mind rethe books shall be opened.” We do ceives in sleep, and in some kinds of not see how the plural number books madness, often, we have no doubt, would have been used unless it were


like the forms of vac meant as a figurative expression for pour ; but we conceive, that all moral the minds or memories of those who ideas at least, if not all ideas whatever are to appear in judgment.

which a man receives whilst awake, T'he mere probability, however, of and in a state of perfect rationality, are this, taken in connection with the im- indelibly impressed on the mind, and perishableness of our ideas, is enough are perishable only so far as the mind to make the most inconsiderate pause, is so. and is greatly calculated to excite to Amongst others the following are moral circumspection.

the best reasons we can give for such The consideration, that the soul is, an article of faith.* in its every movement, subjected to a 1st, The circumstance of our not strict and indelible registry, is surely being able by any effort to recall a for. appalling; but it is still more so to learn, gotten idea is no proof, forms indeed that the process of recording is effected

no presumption that the idea is alto* It may be mentioned, that Jeremy ing long, but wholly in vain, to recall

gether lost ; for often after endeavour. Taylor entertained this opinion as to the what we once knew, by and bye it book of remembrance out of which we are to be judged; for in his sermon, his awful spontaneously presents itself to the sermon, on“ Christ's Advent to Judgment,"

mind. in alluding to the dead he says, * Their

2dly, Often ideas and impressions debt-books are sealed up till the day of ac- long forgotten return suddenly and count.” Again, “ Our conscience shall be unexpectedly upon us, and quickly our accuser ; but this signifies these two things, Ist, That we shall be condemned for the evil which we have done, and shall . We have not read Mr Coleridge's Biothen remember God by his power wiping graphia Literaria, where Mr C. adduces per. away the dust from the tables of our me haps better arguments on this point than mory."

have occurred to us.

pass forever

again vanish without our being able to he meets with in conversation, or in retain them. They seem to be out of the course of his reading, are felt as the controul of the will, coming and quite new, the remaining great majopassing away like the wind, as they rity then are not new to him from list, without our being able to tell how. their being of the nature of reminisWhat we allude to will be best under- cences, or ideas already existing in the stood by the following passage from mind, though it may be long forgotten, the original and energetic Foster: and which perhaps never would have

“ In some occasional states of mind, we been remembered again in life, but for can look back much more clearly, and to a their being resuggested ; this shews, much greater distance, than at other times. if not that ideas are imperishable, at I would advise to seize those short intervals least that a vast proportion of that of illumination which sometimes occur without our knowing the cause, and in which selves to have lost, has not perished,

knowledge which we imagine ourthe genuine aspect of some remote event, or

but remains, though in a latent state, long-forgotten image, is recovered with extreme distinctness by vivid spontaneous in the mind. glimpses of thought, such as no effort could 4thly, We are to be judged at last have commanded ; as the sombre features by every action, and word, and thought, and minute objects of a distant ridge of hills and feeling of our life, * at least by become strikingly visible in the strong those that have a moral character or gleams of light which transiently fall on

relation. Many of these, however, we them. An instance of this kind occurred to me but a few hours since, while reading and

may never again remember here;

have in the meanwhile quite forgot, what had no perceptible connection with a circumstance of my early youth, which pro- many, which will go perhaps consibably I have not recollected for many years, derably to influence our ultimate destiand which had no unusual interest at the ny; but if they are not merely forgotten, time that it happened. That circumstance but actually effaced from the tablets of came suddenly to my mind with a clearness the mind, how are they to be recogof representation which I was not able to nised as our own when arrayed either retain for the length of an hour, and which for or against us, at the great bar I could not, by the strongest effort, at this of judgment. To say that the Alinstant renew. I seemed almost to sec the walls and windows of a particular room, mighty, by some arbitrary miraculous with four or five persons in it, who were so

act, if we may so express ourselves, perfectly restored to my imagination, that I can give the consciousness of their Lould recognise not only the features, but being our own, is to say what is true; even the momentary expressions of their but surely it is more agrecable to the courtenances, and the tones of their voices."

general analogy of the means by which Every man must have experienced the Almighty effects his purposes, to in himself instances like this of invo- suppose, that the ideas are not effaced luntary resuscitation of mental images. from the mind; and that the soul, in Such instances show that there are another state of existence, will be so images and ideas existing in the mind far delivered from its present impediof which it is unconscious, but which, ments, and deadening influences, as to like the electric fuid unsuspectedly be alive to every impression ever made concealed in a summer evening cloud, upon itt, or be able distinctly, and at requires only an appropriate medium of attraction to gleam forth. This being the case, may we not say, that if # Matthew xii. 36. Rom. ii. 6. and 16. one set of ideas, which seemed to have 2 Cor. v. 10. Eccles. xii. 14. gone for ever from the mind, is re

+ We know a person who experienced on called by some accidental or external one occasion an approach to this superincircumstance, all ideas, whose imprese pressions and emotions. He had fallen into

duced energy of mind, in regard to past imsions were originally at least as strong,

a river, and being unable to swim, was in would recur, were but their respective great danger of being drowned. In the associations by some object or occur- first plunge under water, from which he rerence awakened.

covered almost immediately, it seemed as 3dly, By a man of ordinary infor- every thing, according to his own declara. mation, a small proportion only, out tion, in his previous life, that was in any of the vast multitude of ideas which way improper, had rushed upon his mé

mory in all its original vividness. Many

an occurrence and circumstance flashed upon On a Man's Writing Memoirs of Him. him in the lightning of that moment which self, Letter I.

he had long forgot.

once, to remember every circumstance health, but, to the astonishment of his of its existence here when stated. friends, they found that the Doctor

These arguments, however, amount was then unconscious of any one thing only to the probable, and one stubborn that had occurred from the time he fact directly opposed to them would was first affected.* set them all aside.

Now, in this instance, whatever Your correspondent adduces what shock there was to affect the mind he considers to be such a fact. A case happened at the commencement of the in which he reckons the deepest im- period unretained by the memory; pressions upon the mind were wiped so that in place of ideas being, in a away. We allude to the story of the natural way, received into the mind, woman who was executed at Oxford. and afterwards annihilated, it appears We were told lately of an occurrence that, in consequence of bodily disease, nearly similar in its main circum- the mind was so peculiarly affected as to stances to that event.

be unable to retain any impressions In Sheffield, about the year 1740, made upon it; although that circuma man, after being executed, was placed stance had so little impeded the exin a coftin, and conveyed so far in a cartercise of the other faculties, during towards the place where it was proposed the short continuance of the disease, to inter the body. When not far from às to have remained unobserved by the spot, the attendants dispersed to the Doctor's attendants and friends. shelter themselves from a heavy shower In a word, the case comes under the of rain which had overtaken them. On head of partial mental derangement. their return to the cart, the coffin was It is on the same principle that we empty, and, after a little search, the would explain the fact of the woman deserter from the grave was found alive at Oxford and the man at Sheffield, in a neighbouring house. The man had forgetting even that they had been conducted himself on the day of exe- hanged. The woman seems, on the cution very much as others do on like day of her trial, most likely on hearoccasions ; but on being questioned by ing the result of it, to have been so those who afterwards visited him, a far overcome as to fall into that pecumong whom was the father of the liar mental incapacity which Dr S. gentleman who narrated the story to had experienced, and which is comus, as to his feelings on that day, he patible, for a time at least, with apsaid that he remembered being brought parent soundness of mind. The man out of prison, but had not the least seems to have been overpowered in a recollection of being taken to the place similar manner in the act of taking of execution,* or of what took place him from prison for execution. there. Here then, as in the affair This surely is a more natural acmentioned by your correspondent, there count of matters than that proposed seems to be a complete effacement of by your correspondent, who imagines the deepest impressions.

that the memory, by some great and I shall now state a case which, in sudden shock, lost its more recent and its nature, is evidently the same with deepest impressions, whilst it remainthese two, but which just so far ed, as to every former one, unimpaired. varied in its circumstances, as to ena

We know that, from various causes, ble us to assign a different cause for the the memory is often much injured, phenomenon in question than that sometimes nearly destroyed, bùt that, given by your correspondent.

by any violence, a few of its most imThe late Dr S. of Paisley, at one pressive ideas should be obliterated, period of his life was struck with the whilst the rest, even the faintest, repalsy, which made him for some time mained unaffected, is what we cannot quite an invalid. In that situation his conceive. mind seemed unimpaired. He con But the following fact we think to versed just as at other times with his be still more decisive in the question. friends, and particularly reasoned much A gentleman now deceased, who and ingeniously on the nature of his resided in the neighbourhood of Dubdisease. In the course of about a lin, some years before his death sudmonth he had much recovered in

* The gentleman upon whose authority Formerly the place of execution was at this is narrated, was Dr S.'s intimate friend, some distance from that of confinement. and was often with him in his sickness.

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