HALF HOURS. 239 



ing him to the door, and for my missing plate; but my wonder was 

 reserved for the perusal of his pamphlet, which might have deceived 

 a saint by its tone of earnest piety, and ninety-nine out of any hun- 

 dred of belles-lettres critics by the confident flow of its eloquence, 

 and the glitter of its metaphorical illustrations. I have mentioned 

 handicrafts here was fine writing (which I had been wont to reve- 

 rence) brought down to their level as an art, and infinitely beneath 

 them as an nonest calling ! and " powers of mind" (my almost tute- 

 lary divinities) prostituted in the service of the powers of darkness! 

 " The disenchanted pew lost all its charm." An illustration ef "you 

 might have knocked me down with a feather" came over me. Here 

 was a carpenter, mob-leader, fork-stealer, outrivalling my best ver- 

 biage, and " rushing in'' where ' angels dare not tread," with the 

 unction and familiar handling of an adept. 



" I flung down the mortifying document with indignant disgust 

 (but I shall treasure it carefully nevertheless, both as a curiosity in 

 its kind, and as an antidote against pride of intellect), and we turned 

 again to the pages of our unfortunate poet. Grace, harmony, tender- 

 ness the hues of the rainbow, and the softness of the summer shower, 

 were all here. If there was no development of powerful genius, 

 there was perfect elegance ; and, if no traits of originality, a delicate 

 perception of the beautiful and the just disclosed the aurora of a 

 superiorly gifted youthful mind. Alas ! I thought, how little likely 

 to struggle through the clouds of adverse fortune to that bright meri- 

 dian which was doubtless prefigured to the fond enthusiast, wrijle 

 ranging in their earlier emanations these elements of pure thought! 

 My young companions wept over his pages, and not fifteen years 

 back I could have wept outward as well as inward tears too. 



Another knock at the door. Figure if you can our revulsion of 

 feeling from tenderness to horror. Officers of justice were in pur- 

 suit of him. He had committed a peculiarly base and extensive 

 forgery, of which the proofs were in their hands. O tempora / O mores ! 



The above instances are facts both in their leading features, and 

 in their connections. Z. 



LINES WRITTEN WHEN LOOKING ON WARWICK CASTLE. 



THOU stately pile, could thy gray walls unfold 



Tales of earlier days, of ages past, 



Hand down thy records of doings old, 



Since thy bold front first smiled upon the blast, 



Then could'st thou tell of maidens dazzling bright, 



Of palfreys swift, and pages gay. 



Of lady's hand bestowed on gallant knight, 



By valour won in the deadly fray, 



Thou'dst tell of thy stout earl's defying power, 



Whose lion heart struck terror to his foes, 



Of noble blood that flowed for England's crown, 



When the yell of war was blended with the rose. 



Thou hast seen ambition's reckless flight, 



Men's lofty climbings and dishonourable falls, 



Dark treason bud, bloom, and sudden blight, 



And proud hearts moulder 'neath thy old gray walls. 



