Experience has confirm'd the fact:
'Tis easier to advise than act.' pp. 197-202.
We must make room for one more, and the following presents itself.
THE JUG AND THE KETTLE.
• Iron Kettle said one day,
"Earthen Jug, we'll take a ramble."
"No," said he," excuse me, pray ;
"I was never formed to amble:
"On my shelf, beside the fire,
"I have all my heart's desire.
"If my friend abroad should take me,
"Know, the slightest blow would break me,
"For yourself, indeed, proceed
"Where gay Fancy chance to lead.
"Go to France and see the Louvre,
"Cross the Alps, ascend Mont Blanc ;
"You will never want Vancouver,
"Be the Journey short or long.
"Go where Gaiety invites you,
"And the merry dance delights you:
"Strength you have, if you have skill,
"Both for Waltzing and Quadrille.
"Chimney Corner, still and snug,
"Better suits an Earthen Jug."
"No, my friend, I cannot settle,"
Said the kind, warm-hearted Kettle,
"Thus to roam and take my pleasure,
"While you mope at home at leisure;
"Come with me, and I'll protect you,
"To the smoothest path direct you,
"And ere mischief can ensue,
"Take the blow design'd for you."
• Earthen Jug no more, I wist,
Could the flatt'ring call resist.
Side by side they jog together,
Nothing heeding hours or weather;
Thro' square, and street, and lane, and row,
Clitter clatter on they go.
Sometimes this thing, sometimes t'other,
Strikes the friends against each other.
Ev'ry loosen'd stone's attack
Causes Earthen Jug a crack;
Till ere long, his doom unravels,
Smash he goes, and ends his travels.
Learn the Moral from the Sequel:
Still associate with an Equal :-
If you mingle with the Great,
Like the Jug's will be your fate.' pp. 323-325.
With regard to the original poems, they display the same easy flow of versification, they abound with excellent sentiments, and they sometimes reach the spirit and playfulness of the translations; but the Author reminds us of a fine penman who cannot write well unless his paper is ruled, or has lines under it. The Enchanted Flute' professes to be a poem in seven cantos: it consists in fact of two poems, one inserted in the middle of the other, occasioning the interruption, without answering the purpose of a parenthesis. The transition from gay to grave, from lively to severe,' is by far too violent; and the poem is not only without unity, but without harmony. Cantos 2, 3, 4, detail an affecting story, possibly not an imaginary one, such as Crabbe delights to tell, but Mrs. Wolferstan's graver style is deficient in nerve, and point, and pathos. Catherine's adventure by itself, were the four cantos which it occupies, retrenched of about a third of the number of lines, would make a very pleasing poem. But our Author must positively resist the temptation to write long poems. Urania and • Ellen' seemed to us an instructive tale, but we could not get through it. By far the best long poem in the volume is entitled Three Weeks after Marriage,' which we commend to the perusal of all whom it may concern: it does equal credit to the sterling qualities of the Writer's mind, and her command of easy verse. The sonnets only serve to confirm our opinion that the Author should not attempt the graver measures, especially so long as she can gratify her readers with poems of a lighter kind so spirited and pleasing as the following.
• TWO VIEWS OF THE SAME SUBJECT.
'Ladies who own an income clear
Of full twelve hundred pounds a year,
Though time has dimm'd the sparkling eye,
And ting'd the skin with darker dye,
Nor giv'n those better charms instead,
Which live when loveliness is fled,
May still find courtesies as plenty
As in the smiling bloom of twenty.
This did Olinda, matron sage,
Though passing forty years of age.
But ancient Poets, to attain
More Bardlike and imposing strain,
Were wont to seek those valleys green
Where flows th' inspiring Hyppocrene,
Then call from their Aonian glades
The Nine well-educated Maids:
(Like families of modern days,
One draws, one sings, another plays.)
Her I invoke, if such there be
In thy fair flock, Mnemosyne!
Who simple Truth and Nature prizes,
And all who woo them patronizes.
''Twas in that season when the rose
Through her
green kerchief crimson shews,
When gales delicious odours bring,
And new-fledg'd thrushes try the wing,
Olinda, as our legends say,
Had slept four balmy hours away
Since the proud Sun, in crimson state
Had canopied his Eastern gate;
Now, far diffus'd, and mounting high,
His golden glories fill'd the sky,
And heard was Bennet's gentle knock,
Preceding "Ma'am, 'tis eight o'clock."
The drop-bolt rattled, and the maid
Not one of all the duties paid
That daily ask her powerful aid,
(The flowry chintz is scarce withdrawn,
The shutters yet defy the dawn,)
Began, in accents might awake
The fishes of the Stygian lake,
Or make the seven sleepers start,
Or chill Tydides' val'rous heart,
"O, Ma'am ! poor Martha's pretty hen,
"You've prais'd it o'er and o'er again!
"Spotted and speckled, like a pheasant!
"It was her dear young Lady's present)
"The sweetest, tamest, gentlest thing,-
"She did not even cut its wing.—
"Where'er she sat, it nestled to her,
"One could have almost sworn it knew her-
"Well, Ma'am! this very, blessed night,
"That barbarous fox, as if for spite,
"Has taken the good old creature's pet.
"The poor soul cried, is crying yet.
"For my part, I should straight determine
"To kill at once these odious vermin;
"And were you, Ma'am, to say the same,
"I wonder who would dare to blame!
"Constant vexation! endless losses!
"Merely to please men, dogs, and horses."
Olinda waited for the tide,
And then in calmer tones replied:
"All this, perhaps, is very true,
"But, Bennet, what am I to dò?
"My neighbours are extremely kind,
"And we should ever bear in mind
"Civilities ourselves receive.
"We cannot what is lost retrieve.
"Martha should take more care, and then
"She would not thus have lost her hen.-
"I have this moment in the house
"A present of a brace of grouse.
"Then we should all things weigh and measure: "They hunt for health as well as pleasure.
"Sir Reginald, to name no more,
"Might lay his dropsy at my door,
"Should I, when people are annoy'd,
"Have the poor animals destroy'd.
"You know that all the doctors cry,
"Sir Reginald must ride or die;
"And but for hunting, would he ever
"Leave his arm-chair and sofa? never.
"So that his case, to go no further,
"Would fairly make my conduct murther!
"And then how very kind they were
"When John was here for change of air!
"He brought no horse, they lent him one:
"Sir Reginald had bought his son.
"The creature threw him, it is true,
"And broke a leg and rib or two,
"But things will sometimes happen cross-
" 'Twas very kind to lend the horse;
" 'Twas kind to shew my nephew sport,
"And he, poor fellow, thank'd them for't."
• Bennet had nothing more to say;
Like gamesters when they lose at play,
She prudently threw up the game:
Her eloquence had miss'd its aim.
Not so when one devoted morn,
The sun had half his beams withdrawn,
And many a louring cloud was seen
To gather on the blue serene-
(For authors evermore importune
The skies to usher in misfortune;
"The dawn was overcast" when Cato,
Inclin❜d to read, turn'd over Platò)—
Well, then, the heavens portentous frown'd,
And boding swallows skimm'd the ground,
When hapless Bennet, breathing woe,
Her mouth drawn down like bended bow,
Told how the hen-house, spite of locks,
Was enter'd by the wily fox,
And nine sweet turkeys, at the least,
Were taken for the monster's feast!
"My turkeys! all my turkeys gone !"
Olinda cries-"No; there is one."
"One turkey!-only one d'ye say?
"I saw them all but yesterday,
"And was just thinking as they past,
"The pretty things were growing fast,
"And one should go to John this year,
"The other nine be eaten here.
"O Bennet, Bennet, 'tis a shame!
"But somebody must be to blame!
"Lock'd do you say the hen-house door?"
"Yes, but he enter'd thro' the floor-
"Foxes are witches, I've no doubt,
"One vainly tries to keep them out."
"Well! this is not to be endur'd,
"The mischief must and shall be cur'd.
"What is the value of a present
"Of hare, or even grouse, or pheasant?
"Ven'son, which epicures adore,
"I care not if I touch no more-
"Indeed, by choice, or my ill luck,
"They oftener send me doe than buck,
"And when the keeper's had his fee,
"'Tis all that's worth, 'twixt you and me.
"But why on trifles waste a word?
"Humanity should first be heard.
"Poor John, since that ill-fated day,
"Has always limp'd, and always may;
"And ev'ry night before it rains
"Is tortur'd with rheumatic pains.
"Sir Reginald will leap a gate,
"In spite of his amazing weight,
"And should his horse receive a check,
"No one can answer for his neck.
"So, when you've given me my cap,
"Bid Robert Grundy set the trap."
We should imagine that the translations from La Fontaine would be very acceptable if reprinted separately in a smaller size. In our humble opinion, they should have taken the lead in the title-page. We exhort the Author to prosecute the task of presenting the lively Frenchman in an English dress.
Thus far had we written, when we found ourselves called upon to notice a second publication from the same pen, which we receive with pleasuresas affording ground for presuming that the first has not proved unsuccessful. Eugenia' is certainly very superior in interest to any of the longer poems in Mrs. Wolferstan's former publication; and it has somewhat
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