The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 405, December 19, 1829

More than one acknowledgment is due from us to this excellent work, although the publishers may doubt our sincerity by our selecting the following interesting Ballad, from the German of Christian Count Stolberg; which, observes the reviewer, "is by some considered the poet's best effort, and a translation is therefore here attempted:"—

ELIZA VON MANSFIELD

A BALLAD OF THE TENTH CENTURY"Still night! how many long for thee!Now while I wake to weep,O thou to them hast comfort brought,Repose and gentle sleep.Wished too, thou comest to me; now IAm lonely, and am free,And with my many sighs profoundMay ease my misery.Alas! what evil have I doneThey treat me so severely?My father always called me hisGood child whom he loved dearly.My dying mother on my headPoured her best blessings forth:It may in heaven be fulfill'd,But surely not on earth!Change not this blessing to a curseFor those who me offend.O God! forgive them what they do,And cause them to amend.Ah, I with patience might bear all,If, Love, thou wouldst not be,Thou who consumest my troubled heartWith hopeless agony!If now, while one sweet hope remains,I cannot this endure;Thou breakest then, poor heart. So, 'tillThou breakest, hold it sure."Meanwhile, sweeps on a knightly man,Upon his gallant steed,And reaches, guided by the path,The castle bridge, with speed.There deeply sank into his heart,The plaint of the ladye,He deems she pleads to him for help,And will her saviour be.Full of impatience and desire,His glowing eyes ranged round,Till high, within the window, theyThe lovely lady found."Ah! lady, speak, why mournest thou?Confide thy grief to me,And to thy cause this sword, this arm,This life, devoted be!""Ah! noble knight, nor sword, nor armI need, right well I wot,But comfort for my sorrowing heart.And, ah, that thou hast not!""Let me partake thy saddening woe.That will divide thy grief.My tear of pity will bestowBoth comfort and relief.""Thou good kind youth, then hear my tale;An orphan I, sir knight,And with my parents did expireMy peace and my delightAn uncle and an aunt are nowTo me in parents' stead,Who wound my heart, (God pardon it!)As if they wished me dead.My father was a wealthy Count:The inheritance now mine—Would I were poor! this wretched wealth'Tis makes me to repine.My uncle thirsteth, day and night,For my possessions rare,And therefore shuts me in this tower.Hard-hearted and severe.Here shall I bide, he threatens, chooseI not, in three days, whetherI wed his son, or leave the world.For a cloister, altogether.How quickly might the choice be made.And I the veil assume,Ah, had my youthful heart not lovedA youth in beauty's bloom.The youngest at the tournament,I saw him, and I loved,So free, so noble, and so bold—No one like him approved!""Be, noble lady, of good cheer.No cloister shalt thou see,Far less of that bad cruel manThe daughter ever be.I can, I will deliver thee,I have resolved it too,To yield thee to thy youngling's arms.As I am a Stolberg true!""Thou? Stolberg? O my grief is gone!Mine angel led thee, sure;Thou art the dear, dear youth for whomThese sorrows I endure.Now say I free and openly,What then my looks confest,When I, my love, thy earliest lanceWith oaken garland drest.""O God! thou? my beloved child,Eliza Mansfield Dove,I loved thee, too, with the first look,As none did ever love.See on my lance the garland yet,It ever carries there;O could'st thou see thy image too,Imprinted deeply here!And now, why loiter we? Ere shineThe sun, I'll bring thee home,And nothing more shall our chaste lovesDivide, whatever come.""With all my soul I love thee, youth,Yet still my virgin shameStruggles against thy rash design,And trembles for my fame.""We'll seek my sister first, and thereOur wedding shall precede.And then into my castle IMy noble bride will lead.—Eliza' let us hasten, come—It is the mid of night,The moon will soon conclude her course,That shineth now so bright."Now softly by a secret wayThe lady lightly trod.Till she beneath the window—paleAs deadly marble, stood.Yet soon she felt her heart again,And sprung unto her knight,Who press'd her speechless to his heartThat throbb'd with chaste delight.Then lifts her gladly on his steed,And her before sits he;She winds about him her white arms,Forth go they, valiantly.Now, wakened by the prancing steed.And that true griffin's neigh,The damsel from the window spiedHer lady borne away.She wildly shrieks, and plains to allOf her calamity:The old man foams, and cursing, swearsHis niece in shame shall die.He summon'd all his people up,And ere the day began,They left the castle ready armed,Led by that wicked man.Meanwhile, cheered by the friendly moon,Through common, field, and mead,Far over hill, and vale, and wood,That knightly pair proceed.What torrent now with dashing foamRoars loud before them so"Fear not, my love," the Stolberg said,"This stream full well I know."The gallant roan makes head, his feetApprove the flood with care,Then dashes, neighing, through, as ifA tiny brook it were.Now come they to the castle wet,Yet wrapt in heavenly bliss;Let them describe who such have felt,The intensity of this.Now, sate they at the early meal;The cup careered about …But entering soon—"Up noble Count!The Mansfield!" cried a scout.The bride and sister fearfullyTheir hair in sorrow tore;The Count already had to horse,And his full armour wore.Forth went he out to meet the strife.And called to Mansfield loud,"In vain your anger is, for sheMy wife is, wed and vow'd.And am I not of noble stem,Whose fame is bruited wide,Who princes to our nation gave,E'en in the heathen tide?"With lance in rest, upon him springsThat uncle bad and old,His people follow—but the knightAwaits him calm and bold.And draws his sword. As Mansfield nears,His fury stoppage found—He lays about, and cleaves his scull,And smites him to the ground.The rest disperse, and Stolberg hastesInto the house again,And him throughout the long sweet nightHer gentle arms enchain.

A FEARFUL PROSPECT

(From the "Noctes" of Blackwood.)

Shepherd.—I look to the mountains, Mr. North, and stern they staun' in a glorious gloom, for the sun is strugglin' wi' a thunder-cloud, and facing him a faint but fast-brightenin' rainbow. The ancient spirit o' Scotland comes on me frae the sky; and the sowl within me reswears in silence the oath o' the Covenant. There they are—the Covenanters a' gather'd thegither, no in fear and tremblin', but wi' Bibles in their bosoms, and swords by their sides, in a glen deep as the sea, and still as death, but for the soun' o' a stream and the cry o' an eagle. "Let us sing, to the praise and glory o' God, the hundred psalm," quoth a loud clear voice, though it be the voice o' an auld man; and up to Heaven hands he his strang wither'd hauns, and in the gracious wunds o' heaven are flying abroad his gray hairs', or say rather, white as the silver or the snaw.

North.—Oh, for Wilkie!

Shepherd.—The eagle and the stream are silent, and the heavens and the earth are brocht close thegither by that triumphin' psalm. Ay, the clouds cease their sailing and lie still; the mountains bow their heads; and the crags, do they not seem to listen, as in that remote place the hour o' the delighted day is filled with a holy hymn to the Lord God o' Israel!

North.—My dear Shepherd!

Shepherd.—Oh! if there should be sittin' there—even in that congregation on which, like God's own eye, looketh down the meridian sun, now shinin' in the blue region—an Apostate!

North.—The thought is terrible.

Shepherd.—But na, na, na! See that bonny blue-e'ed, rosy-cheek'd, gowden-haired lassie,—only a thought paler than usual, sweet lily that she is,—half sittin' half lyin' on the greensward, as she leans on the knee o' her stalwart grand-father—for the sermon's begun, and all eyes are fastened on the preacher—look at her till your heart melts, as if she were your ain, and God had given you that beautifu' wee image o' her sainted mother, and tell me if you think that a' the tortures that cruelty could devise to inflict, would ever ring frae thae sweet innocent lips ae word o' abjuration o' the faith in which the flower is growing up amang the dew-draps o' her native hills?

North.—Never—never—never!

Shepherd.—She proved it, sir, in death. Tied to a stake on the sea-sands she stood; and first she heard, and then she saw, the white roarin' o' the tide. But the smile forsook not her face; it brichten'd in her een when the water reach'd her knee; calmer and calmer was her voice of prayer, as it beat again' her bonny breast; nae shriek when a wave closed her lips for ever; and methinks, sir,—for ages on ages hae lapsed awa' sin' that martyrdom, and therefore Imagination may withouten blame dally wi' grief—methinks, sir, that as her golden head disappear'd, 'twas like a star sinkin' in the sea!

North.—God bless you, my dearest James! shake hands.

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY

POPULAR PHILOSOPHY

Dr. Arnott's Elements of PhysicsVol. ii. Part I

We are warm friends to the diffusion of knowledge, and accordingly receive the present portion of Dr. Arnott's work with much satisfaction. We believe the sale of the first volume to have been almost unprecedentedly rapid, (a fourth edition being called for within two years) in comparison with the usual slow sale of scientific works. This success may easily be traced. The title of the work is not extraordinarily inviting, illustration, not embellishment, is attempted in a few outline diagrams, and the only external inducement to read, is a plain, legible type, to suit all sights. Looking further, we find the great cause in the manner as well as the matter of the volume, which is throughout a text-book of plain-spoken philosophy, or as the author says in his title-page, "independently of technical mathematics." Again, in his introductory chapter on "Imponderable Substances," he says, "To understand the subjects as far as men yet usefully understand them, and sufficiently for a vast number of most useful purposes, it is only necessary to classify important phenomena, so that their nature and resemblances may be clearly perceived." The main error of most people who write on philosophical subjects, or the stumbling-block of all students, has been that of the writer presuming too much upon the cultivated understanding of his reader. Thus, in the midst of very familiar explanations we have often seen technicalities which must operate as a wet blanket on the enthusiasm of the reader; and break up the charm which the subject had hitherto created. Upon this principle, treatise upon treatise has been published without effecting the primary object. The matter of Dr. Arnott's work, however, appears to us to be in strict accordance with its title—elementary; but it is accompanied with a variety of explanations of familiar facts on philosophical principles, which possess attractions of a most amusive character.

The present portion of Dr. Arnott's work comprehends the subjects of Light and Heat, which admit of more familiar illustration than any other branches of Natural Philosophy. Of this advantage the author has fully availed himself in a variety of familiar exemplars, which, to speak seriously are brought home to our very firesides. A few of these facts will form a recreative page or two for another MIRROR: in the meantime we quote a few illustrative observations on the most interesting exhibitions of the day:—

"Common paintings and prints may be considered as parts of a panoramic representation, showing as much of that general field of view which always surrounds a spectator, as can be seen by the eye turned in one direction, and looking through a window or other opening. The pleasure from contemplating these is much increased by using a lens. There is such a lens fitted up in the shops, with the title of optical pillar machine, or diagonal mirror, and the print to be viewed is laid upon a table beyond the stand of the lens, and its reflection in a mirror supported diagonally over it, is viewed through the lens. The illusion is rendered more complete in such a case by having a box to receive the painting on its bottom, and where the lens and mirror, fixed in a smaller box above, are made to slide up and down in their place to allow of readily adjusting the focal distance. This box used in a reverse way becomes a perfect camera obscura. The common show-stalls seen in the streets are boxes made somewhat on this principle, but without the mirror; and although the drawings or prints in them are generally very coarse, they are not uninteresting. To children whose eyes are not yet very critical, some of these show boxes afford an exceeding great treat."

Cosmoramas and Dioramas.

"A still more perfect contrivance of the same kind has been exhibited for some time in London and Paris under the title of Cosmorama (from Greek words signifying views of the world, because of the great variety of views.) Pictures of moderate size are placed beyond what have the appearance of common windows, but of which the panes are really large convex lenses fitted to correct the errors of appearance which the nearness of the pictures would else produce. Then by farther using various subordinate contrivances, calculated to aid and heighten the effects, even shrewd judges have been led to suppose the small pictures behind the glasses to be very large pictures, while all others have let their eyes dwell upon them with admiration, as magical realizations of the natural scenes and objects. Because this contrivance is cheap and simple, many persons affect to despise it; but they do not thereby show their wisdom; for to have made so perfect a representation of objects, is one of the most sublime triumphs of art, whether we regard the pictures drawn in such true perspective and colouring, or the lenses which assist the eye in examining them.

"It has already been stated, that the effect of such glasses in looking at near pictures, is obtainable in a considerable degree without a glass, by making the pictures very large and placing them at a corresponding distance. The rule of proportion in such a case is, that a picture of one foot square at one foot distance from the eye, appears as large as a picture of sixty feet square at sixty feet distance. The exhibition called the Diorama is merely a large painting prepared in accordance with the principle now explained. In principle it has no advantage over the cosmorama or the show box, to compensate for the great expense incurred, but that many persons may stand before it at a time, all very near the true point of sight, and deriving the pleasure of sympathy in their admiration of it, while no slight motion of the spectator can make the eye lose its point of view."

The Colosseum.

"A round building of prodigious magnitude has lately been erected in the Regent's Park, in London, on the walls of which is painted a representation of London and the country around, as seen from the cross on the top of St. Paul's Cathedral. The scene taken altogether is unquestionably one of the most extraordinary which the whole world affords, and this representation combines the advantages of the circular view of the panorama, the size and distance of the great diorama, and of the details being so minutely painted, that distant objects may be examined by a telescope or opera-glass.

"From what has now been said, it may be understood, that for the purpose of representing still-nature, or mere momentary states of objects in motion, a picture truly drawn, truly coloured, and which is either very large to correct the divergence of light and convergence of visual axes, or if small, as viewed through a glass, would affect the retina exactly as the realities. But the desideratum still remained of being able to paint motion. Now this too has been recently accomplished, and in many cases with singular felicity, by making the picture transparent, and throwing lights and shadows upon it from behind. In the exhibitions of the diorama and cosmorama there have been represented with admirable truth and beauty such phenomena as—the sun-beams occasionally interrupted by passing clouds, and occasionally darting through the windows of a cathedral and illuminating the objects in its venerable interior—the rising and disappearing of mist over a beautiful landscape, runningwater, as for instance the cascades among the sublime precipices of Mount St. Gothard in Switzerland;—and most surprising of all, a fire or conflagration. In the cosmorama of Regent-street, the great fire of Edinburgh was admirably represented:—first that fine city was seen sleeping in darkness while the fire began, then the conflagration grew and lighted up the sky, and soon at short intervals, as the wind increased, or as roofs fell in, there were bursts of flame towering to heaven, and vividly reflected from every wall or spire which caught the direct light—then the clouds of smoke were seen rising in rapid succession and sailing northward upon the wind, until they disappeared in the womb of distant darkness. No one can have viewed that appalling scene with indifference, and the impression left by the representation, on those who knew the city, can scarcely have been weaker than that left on those who saw the reality. The mechanism for producing such effects is very simple; but spectators, that they may fully enjoy them, need not particularly inquire about it."

Even for the present we cannot omit mention of the delight with which we have read several of the more playful portions of the present work; we allude to such passages as the Influence of Heat on Animated Beings, in which Dr. Arnott has really blended the pencil of the artist with the pen of the philosopher, and thus produced many sketches of extreme picturesque beauty.

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.SHAKSPEARE.

A German having been shown Mount Edgcumbe, and magnificently entertained with sea-fish, exclaimed—"For my part, I like flat countries, and fresh-water fish."

POETICAL SCRAP

Inscription over a chimney-sweeper's door, at the entrance to Hastings, from the London Road:—

W. Freelove liveth here,Is willing to serve both far and near:He'll sweep your chimneys cheap and clean,And hopes your custom to obtain;And, if your chimney should catch fire,He'll put it out at your desire.

The following article appeared, some years since, in a Valenciennes journal:—Six merchants crossing the Coast of Guinea, with seventy-five large monkeys, were attacked by upwards of a hundred negroes. Being at a loss how to defend themselves against such odds, one of the merchants proposed arming the prisoners: accordingly, swords, poniards, and pistols, were distributed amongst them, and, by imitating their masters, these grotesque auxiliaries succeeded in putting their aggressors to flight.

W.G.C.

SWIFT'S EPIGRAM,

On the dispute which occurred betwixt Bononcini and Handel.

Bononcini swears that HandelCannot to him hold a candle;And Handel swears that Bononcini,Compared to him is a mere ninny.'Tis strange there should such difference be'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee!

LORD CHESTERFIELD

"At what time does a lady lose all susceptibility of the tender passion?" said his lordship to the Duchess of C–, then close upon a century of years.4 The reply was brisk and animated—"Your lordship must apply to some one older than me, for I am incapable of answering the question."

BOW-STREET WIT

Over the fire-place at the public office, Bow-street is a likeness of the celebrated Sir John Fielding Knight, who was at the head of this establishment after losing his sight. A gentleman, a few days ago, observed that Fielding was a great encourager of thieving. "How so?" asked his friend. "Why don't you know he was a dark-knight."

P.T.W.

The following epitaph is on the tomb of David Birkenhead, in Davenham churchyard, Cheshire:

"A tailor by profession,And in the practice, a plain and honest man:He was a useful member of society;For, though he picked holes in no man's coat,He was ever ready to repairThe mischief that others did;And whatever breaches broke out in families,He was the man to mend all,And make matters up again:He lived and died respected."

Forty years' service in Lord Penryhn's family induced Lady Penryhn to bestow this stone to his memory.

AXIOM

Nought but love can answer love,And render bliss secure;But virtue nought can virtue proveTo make that bliss secure.

FOR A WATCH-CASE

Life's but a transient span:Then, with a fervent prayer each night,Wind up the days, and set 'em right,Vain mortal man!

1

In the Temple Church, lie the remains, marked out by their effigies, of numbers of the Templars. For a Description and Engraving of the Church, see MIRROR, No. 274.

2

We would suggest "Gleanings on Gardens." were not that title forestalled by an interesting little work, lately published by Mr. S. Felton.—ED.

3

In the street called Brook Street, was Brook House.

4

Ninety.