Chapter 4

"And on this chance she leaves her children and her country?"

"She does. She argues, that as the will of Providence prevented her from discharging her duties _together_, she must endeavour to perform them _separately_. He was sentenced to die; but, by my father's exertions, his sentence was commuted to one of transportation for life; and I know she has quitted England without the hope of again beholding its white cliffs."

[Miss Landon has contributed a few poetical pieces of great merit; and the Editor, the "simple story" of an Emigrant in verse, full of truth and nature. The Author of the Corn Law Rhymes has two pieces.

The Illustrations are nearly unexceptionable. Seven of them are from pictures by Lawrence; Newton's Gentle Student has supplied the Frontispiece; and Wilkie's Theft of the Cap, one of the most pleasing of the well arranged selection.]

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THE FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING.

[Edited by a poet of no mean merit, has a golden flood of minor pieces in verse, many of them of great beauty and touching sweetness, and nearly all above the usual _calibre_ of such contributions to _Annual_ literature. The prose tales are by Miss Mitford, Mr. J.B. Fraser, Derwent Conway, and by Leitch Ritchie: that by the latter is perhaps the best in the volume; it has a serio-ludicrous interest which is very amusing.

The pieces number upwards of sixty; and as the prose are too lengthy for our columns, we take a slight sprinkling of the poetical flowers:--]

THE ARMADA,

A FRAGMENT,--BY T.B. MACAULAY.

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise, I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer's day, There came a gallant merchant ship full sail to Plymouth bay; Her crew hath seen Castille's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase. Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgcumbe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing bark put out to pry along the coast; And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post. With his white hair unbonneted the stout old sheriff comes; Behind him march the halberdiers, before him sound the drums; His yeomen, round the market-cross, make clear an ample space, For there behoves him to set up the standard of her Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells. Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his ancien crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield: So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay, And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely hunters lay. Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, sir knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids: Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute; ho! gallants draw your blades: Thou sun, shine on her joyously: ye breezes waft her wide: Our glorious SEMPER EADEM,--this banner of our pride. The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold, The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold: Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea;-- Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford bay, That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day: For swift to east and swift to west the warning radiance spread; High on St. Michael's mount it shone, it shone on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniards saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless rage, those twinkling points of fire: The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering waves; The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless caves. O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew; He roused the Shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of Beaulieu. Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town; And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down. The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night, And saw o'erhanging Richmond-hill the streak of blood-red light. Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke. At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires: At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires: From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear; And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer: And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, And the broad stream of flags and pikes dashed down each roaring street: And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din. As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in: And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the warlike errand went, And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of Kent. Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north. And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still, All night from tower to tower they sprang;--they sprang from hill to hill, Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales, Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales, Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height. Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of light; Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless plain; Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlise.

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THE TORNADO.

AN AFRICAN SKETCH,--BY THOMAS PRINGLE.

Dost thou love to list the rushing Of the tempest in its might? Dost thou joy to see the gushing Of the torrent at its height? Hasten forth ere yet the gloaming Waneth wildly into night, While the troubled sea is foaming With a strange phosphoric light.

Lo, the sea-fowl, loudly screaming, Seeks the shelter of the land; And a signal light is gleaming Where yon vesel nears the strand: Just at sun-set she was lying All-becalmed upon the main; Now, with sails in tatters flying, She to sea-ward beats--in vain!

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Now the forest trees are shaking, Like bullrushes in the gale; And the folded flocks are quaking 'Neath the pelting of the hail. From the jungle-cumbered river Comes a growl along the ground; And the cattle start and shiver, For they know full well the sound.

'Tis the lion, gaunt with hunger. Glaring down the darkening glen; But a fiercer Power and stronger Drives him back into his den: For the fiend TORNADO rideth Forth with FEAR, his maniac bride. Who by shipwrecked shores abideth, With the she-wolf by her side.

Heard ye not the Demon flapping His exulting wings aloud? And his mate her wild hands clapping From yon scowling thunder-cloud? By the fireflaucht's gleamy flashing The doomed vessel ye may spy, With the billows o'er her dashing-- Hark (Oh God!) that fearful cry!

Seven hundred human voices In that shriek came on the blast! Ha! the Tempest-Fiend rejoices-- For all earthly aid is past! White as smoke the surge is showering O'er the cliffs that sea-ward frown, While the greedy gulph, devouring, Like a dragon sucks them down.

The Plates are excellent: two or three fancy portraits beam with loveliness; Christ entering Jerusalem, engraved by E.J. Roberts, from Martin, is a sublime scene of "the glorious city of God;" and Corfu and the Bridge of Alva, from drawings by Purser, maintain the promising excellence of his pencil.

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_Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London, sold by G.G. BENNIS, 55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris; CHARLES JUGEL, Francfort; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers._