1829.] 



Domestic and Foreign. 



339. 



rience. It is an attempt, and a very suc- 

 cessful one, to raise an interest by exhibiting 

 the wilder aberrations of intellect in the 

 fonn of deep and absorbing melancholy. 

 Gabrielle is a beautiful Swiss girl, who wit- 

 nessed the destruction of her home, and all 

 its loved inmates, by the sweep of an ava- 

 lanche, and whose senses, at the sight, fled 

 from her for ever. Her looks, her feelings, 

 her thoughts, her wanderings, her habits, 

 are all traced with the minuteness of fact 

 and the gracefulness of fancy — bending the 

 heart to softness and sympathy more irresist- 

 ibly than the wildest strainings of passion 

 ever could do. The absence of stirring 

 events is supplied by descriptions of romantic 

 scenery of a very peculiar kind. A few lines 

 will speak the character of the poetry, and 

 shew its value better than pages of talk. 

 The poor girl gives expression to one of 

 her visions in these fanciAil but forcible 

 terms : — 



O.I, on along the eternal canopy, 



1 view tlioin now ! — their sliadowy steps I see, 



The long-drawn distance, girt with sandals white. 



That on the living aznrc shed tlieir liglit. 



There, there within the corner of the sky, 



Far, far from earth, in golden regions high. 



Dwells my far isle of bliss, a spot of blue 



Shown now and then indulgent lo my view. 



Between white clouds, on all heaven's face beside. 



Standing alone amid the picture wide, 



A gate to bliss, a door of Paradise, 



A port for sufferers wheie no danger lies ! 



In this, my dreary life, I never knew 



One glimpse of joy but in that happy liue; 



And when I am among the cold, cold dead. 



Blue violets sliall adorn my dusty bed. 



And the lilue sky o'ercanopy me where, 



E'en brain-struck mortals lose their soul's despair. 



I know not why, yet blue to me appears 

 A gleam of morning on a night of tears. 

 Tho' green be wanton, purple play the lord. 

 Blue keeps unstained its truth and plighted word. 

 The sight ne'er palls of that celestial dye. 

 Fresh glances make it lovelier to the eye. 

 To my own feeling, nay, I know it true. 

 If happiness had colour, 'twould be blue. 

 Oh what ajoy througljout a nightless year 

 To breathe the rainbow's azure atmosphere, 

 Methinks I should not see, nor hear, nor be. 

 If that dear colour were denied to me; 

 But when I die with tliat before my sight — 

 I know my soul will take lier buoyant flight 

 Up to yon happy isles, where angels fair 

 Wave their white wings in fields of serene air. 



A morceau of great beauty and consider- 

 able vigour follows almost immediately, 

 with the true touch of the poet in it. 



O, fantasies of madness! who can tell 



But ye may have great pledsures, that as well 



Minister their own comforts — even bless 



Your victims with sliort gleams of happiness — 



As near to all we wish, as those whose day 



Is lit by vaunted reason's prouder ray ? 



Your votary rustling on his straw-spread floor. 



Reckless of cold and storm, naked and poor. 



May feel oblivions of the past and dwell 



In some proud palace, or tall citadel. 



Or spicy grove, or garden rose-bestrewed. 



Where zephyr scarcely dares by stealth intrude. 



He may so love his flinty cell and deem 



All else of life, just what it is, a dream, 



That it may be his temple, &c. &c. 



The author dedicates to the author of the 

 " Pleasures of Hope," as a memento of an un- 

 interrupted intercourse of friendship, during 

 many years of literary co-operation. 



FINE ARTS' EXHIBITIONS. 



Panorama of Constantinople. — A new 

 and magnificent view of the above-named 

 city has just been opened, at the large cir- 

 cle of Mr. Burford's building in the Strand, 

 wliich will be seen witli great interest at 

 the present moment, on account of the im- 

 portant events whicli are daily passing in 

 connection witli it, but which must liave ex- 

 cited a more than ordinary degree of curio- 

 sity and attention at any moment, on ac- 

 count of its singular and striking merit as 

 a work of art. Indeed we have seldom 

 seen a panorama more fraught with real in- 

 terest than this, in wliatever point of view 

 it may be looked at — wlictlier as a mere 

 happy arrangement of natural and artificial 

 objects skilfully and brilHantly depicted — 

 or us a scene, eloquent at every ])oint with 

 beautiful, or aftecting, or wondrous associa- 

 tions growing out of tlie events of ages past 

 — or an tlie inniicdiate scene of probable 

 events that may afll'ct tlie whole civilized 

 world for ages to come. 



On the right, as you enter the circle, 

 Constantlnoiile itbtll' rises as if inuncdiately 



from out the waters, like a vast temple, 

 varied at every point, but aU conforming 

 and blending together as if into one con- 

 gruous whole. Towers, and domes, and 

 minarets start up here and there, so as'to 

 do away with all impression of monotony 

 and regularity ; but still the buildings are 

 all so closely connected one witli another — 

 so interwoven together, as it were, by the 

 tracery of trees, gardens, inclosures, &c. 

 that the whole has a look of unity, and con- 

 sequent grandeur and beauty, that is very 

 striking; and what is not- always^ the case 

 with striking objects, very satisfying and 

 complete. ()])posite, on the left, is Scutari, 

 with the sacred burying-ground, Pera, &c. 

 which presents a scene, if not so grand and 

 imposing, still more beautiful, on acc(mnt 

 of the natural objects of beauty interspersed 

 among the artificial ones. Beyond, is 

 Prince's Island, and beyond that, the an- 

 cient Calcedonia; and above these rises that 

 mountain whicli, of all mountains in the 

 world, is the most richly and sublimely in- 

 vested with moral lUisociations, which no 

 2X2 



