332 Monthly Review of Literature. QSept. 



And thus my thoughts, goading my sluggish will, 



Run the tierce gauntlet and the circle round ; 

 This finite world's infinity of ill — 



All that is lost — all that was never found — 



All that, urged bravely forward, did rebound 

 And strike the spirit down into the dust — 



This mockery — this echo of no sound — 

 This cheat that levies faith upon distrust, 

 And from our very joys replenishes disgust. 



Say, wheresoe'er thou (Truth) be, is virtue gain. 



Is honour, wisdom, honesty content ? 

 Are all we deem of pleasure— or of pain , 



Aught but the vilest clogs, by Folly lent, 



T' impede our halting wheels in their descent? 

 If all be true that is affirmed of Heaven, 



Why is life wasted, wherefore is it spent ? 

 Is all we sutler not to be forgiven? 

 Then were our daily bread of a most tearful leaven. 



Beware of Folly, she is wondrous wise ; 



Beware of Wisdom, she is half a fool; 

 Of Love beware, so blind with Argus' eyes ; 



Of Hate so passing hot, so lasting cool ; 



Of all that work by word, or prate by rule ; 

 Of speculation built upon desert ; 



Of Hope, the brittle reed in Fortune's pool, 

 Which our clear-imaged Heaven doth invert ; 

 What granted prayer could now re-form thee as thou wert. 



Family Library, Vol. XXIIL A Family Tour through South Hol- 

 land, &c. 

 At least the volume is what it professes to be — a family tour, from Antwerp to 

 Amsterdam — up the Rhine to Mayence and the Maine to Frankfort — down the 

 Rhine again to Cologne, and back through the Netherlands, by the way of 

 Leige, Waterloo, Brussels, and Ostend. The whole accomplished in one month 

 by a family party of six persons and a servant, at the cost of £138 — the party 

 travelling by the common conveyances of the country, by land and water, and 

 sharing the best accommodations. The present confusions of Belgium will spoil 

 many a similar tour vihich this little volume would have prompted this autumn. 

 As a mere matter of sight-seeing, we know not why a longer time should be 

 spent upon the tour, for the party saw all the lions in the way, which is all that 

 the greater part of people care about. The book itself is of little intrinsic or 

 peculiar value ; the line of country is a well-beaten one, and thoroughly known 

 to the readers of tours. The buildings and pictures, which form the staple of 

 the description, have been described a thousand times — though probably never 

 better. The writer's sentiments relative to the political state of the country, and 

 the conduct of the government, he of course took with him ; he could have no 

 time to inquire into the truth of them on the spot, and it is pretty obvious had 

 no desire to correct them — his prejudices are of a fine vigorous growth. They 

 are worthy of the anti-jacobin times of fortj' years ago ; all reformers, and radi- 

 cals, and revolutionists, and republicans, in a lump and without discrimination, 

 are nothing but rogues and vagabonds. The king of the Netherlands is an 

 excellent king, and the Belgians had nothing to complain of; their revolution 

 ■was all sheer lova of mischief in the leaders, and blind folly in the followers. 

 Yet is all this vituperation finally wound up with the strange confession that the 

 union of the two nations " never augured well. The difference of language and 

 religion was, of itself, repugnant to such an alliance, more especially, when 

 toleration on one side had to contend with bigotry and superstition on the other. 

 In this, even a separation may be of benefit, ultimately, to both parties." 



Passing through Bonn the writer discharges the following decent and de- 

 lectable tirade, not only against the University of Bonn, but the whole batch of 



