THE AUTHOR OF " DARTMOOR/' 145 



"A desperate race, 

 Men of all climes, — attached to none, — were here, 

 Rude mingled with the hero who had fought. 

 By freedom fired, for his beloved France. 

 And these, as volatile as bold, defied 

 Intrusive thought, and flung it to the gale 

 That whistled round them. Maddening dance and song, — 

 The jest obscene, the eager bet, the dice 

 Eventful ; — these, and thousand more, devised 

 To kill the hours, filled up the varied day : 

 And when the moorland evening o'er them closed, 

 On easy pillow slept the careless throng, 

 To run to-morrow the eternal round 

 Of reckless mirth, and on invention call 

 For ceaseless novelty. 



And others wooed 

 The muses, and with soothing song beguiled 

 The leaden moments. Harp on harp was heard, 

 Of sweetest melody, and some pursued 

 Severest love; and followed with firm step, 

 Thee Science — thee Philosophy — and gave 

 The hours to Wisdom." p.p. 37 38. 



The desolate loneliness of the scenery around the 

 prison is described with admirable effect in a single 

 sentence. — 



" O ! who that drags 

 A captive's chain, would feel his soul refreshed. 

 Though scenes, like those of Eden, should arise 

 Around his hated cage ? But here green youth 

 Lost all its freshness, manhood all its prime. 

 And age sank to the tomb, ere peace her trump 

 Exulting blew ; and still upon the eye. 

 In dread monotony, at worn, noon, eve, 

 Arose the Moor — the Moor ! ^' p. p. 42 43. 



Further passages in abundance might be cited from 

 this poem, which, of themselves, without any critical 

 ipse dixit, would establish the high character of 

 Carrington's genius ; but the limits to which this paper 

 is confined render it necessary now to turn to his last 

 work, " My Native Village." 



Tentatus. 



To he resumed in our next. 



VOL. II.— 1833. T 



