J 821.] 



News from Parnassus — No. III. 



133 



Ricliard the 2tl. " Witliiu the hollow 

 crown," &c. 



That the spirit of Liberty breathes 

 even in the inauspicious reijions of 

 Russia, the following energetic lines 

 from the poems of Lomouosoi M'ill 

 testify- 



The God of goJs stood up — stood up to try 

 The assembled gods of earth. " How long," 



he said, 

 " How long will ye protect impiety, 

 And let the vile one raise his daring head ? 

 'Tis jours my laws to justify — redress 

 All wrong, however high the wronger be ; 

 Nor leave the widow and the fatherless 

 To the cold world's uncertain sympathy. 



'Tis your's to guard the steps of innocence, 



To shield the naked head of misery ; 



Be 'gainst the strong, the helpless one's de- 

 fence. 



And the poor prisoner from his chains to 

 free." 



They hear not — see not — know not — for 

 their eyes 



Are covered with thick mists— they will not 

 see: 



The sick earth groans with man's iniquities, 



And heaven is tired with man's perversity. 



Gods of the earth ! j'e Kings! who answer 



not 

 To man for your misdeeds, and vainly 



think 

 There's none to judge you: — know, like 



ours, your lot 

 Is pain and death :- ye stand on judgment's 



brink. 



And ye like fading autumn-leaves will fall ; 

 Your throne but dust — your empire but a 



grave — 

 Your martial pomp a black funereal pall — 

 Your palace trampled by your meanest 



slave. 

 God of the righteous ! O our God ! arise, 

 O hear the prayer thy lowly servants bring; 

 Judge, punish, scatter, Lord! thy enemies, 

 And be alone earth's universal King. 



The Russian poets evince consider- 

 able humour. The present volume 

 contains many good apologues, but our 

 limits will not allow us to transfer 

 them to our pages. The following song 

 byDavidov, is a shorter specimen and 

 no bad imitation of the anacreontic 

 style. 

 While honouring the grape's ruby nectar. 



All sportinglj', laughingly gay ; 

 We determined — I, .Silvia, and Hector, 



To drive old dame Wisdom away. 



" O, my children, take care," said the 

 beldnme, 



" Att<"nd to these coimsels of mine: 

 Get not tipsy ! for danger is seldom 



Remote from the goblet of wine." 



" With thee in his company no man 

 Can err," said our wag with a wink ; 



" But come, thou good-natured old woman 

 Tlicre's a drop in the goblet — and drink !" 



She frowned — but her scruples soon twilling, 

 Consented :- and smilinglj- said : 



" So polite — there's indeed no resisting. 

 For Wisdom was never ill-bred." 



She drank, but continued her teaching: 



" Let the wise from indulgence refrain ;" 

 And never gave over her preaching. 



But to say, " Fill the goblet again." 

 And she drank, and she totter'd, but still 

 she 



Was talking and shaking her head : 

 Muttered " temperance" — " prudence" • 

 until she 



Was carried by Folly* to bed. 



On the whole, this volume is a valu- 

 able addition to our liteiary stores. 

 After the world seemed exhausted, and 

 we were almost induced to interpret 

 literally the complaint of the wise 

 man, that there is nothing new under 

 the sun, Mr. Bowringhas led the way 

 to the Terra Incognifa of poetry — hag 

 opened a mine, which, if not inex- 

 haustible, has been so little worked 

 that it promises to supply treasures to 

 the literary adventurer for a long series 

 of years. Of Mr. Bowling's own me- 

 rits, as fin elegant and spirited versifier, 

 the specimens we have selected furnish 

 abundant proof, and our readers will 

 find on perusing the volume itself that 

 passages of equal merit are not of rare 

 occurrence. We conclude our extracts 

 with the two following : 



I'm fourteen summers old, I trow, 

 'Tis time to look about me now : 

 'Twas only yesterday they said, 

 I was a silly, silly maid ; — 



'Tis time to look about me now. 



The shepherd-swains so rudely stare, 

 I nuist reprove them I declare ; 

 This talks of beauty — that of love — 

 I'm such a fool I can't reprove — 

 1 must reprove them I declare. 



'Tis strange — but yet I hope no sin ; 

 Something unwonted speaks within : 

 Love's language is a mystery, 

 And yet I feel, and yet I see, — 

 O what is this that speaks within? 



The shepherd cries, " I love thee. Sweet ;" 

 " And I love thee," my lips repeat : 

 Kind words, they sound as sweet to me 

 As music's fairest melody ; 



" I love thee," oft my lips repeat. 



His pledge he bring.-., — I'hnot reprove ; 

 O no ! I'll take that pledge of love ; 



• The original has Love. 



To 



