silver beard, and there hung glittering, the gems of Grief, with which she pays tribute to Memory and Affection. None broke the silence: all knew that the old man's thoughts were bent towards the grave of his adopted daughter, she who should have been the comfort of his declining years, she whom he could not but recall to mind when he spoke of the fair Zaide.

(To be continued.)

H. G. ADAMS.

THE RAINDROP OF SPRING.

How lovely is the spring-shower's raindrop nesting
Within the bosom of the fresh-blown flower;-
Like to the gentle tear of sorrow resting
Upon our childhood's earliest, sweetest hour.

It is a short-lived and soon fleeting sorrow;
The sunshine quickly chaseth it away;
But it will surely come again to-morrow,
For there's a share of grief for every day.

The griefs of childhood are so bright and fleeting,
We almost seem to love the tears they bring;

But they foretel a future, bitterer weeping,

That soon shall blight and sear the heart within.

The summer comes with might, like manhood strong;
"Twill ripen the fruit with its burning sun;
But Hope's fragrant blossoms will all be gone,
For nought is so sweet as when it is young.

And then the raindrops will come heavier down,
And cold autumn's winds will scatter the leaves;
The sky will be dark with a cloudy frown,
And lightning will wildly shiver the trees:

And wilder and wilder the winds will blow,
And winter will come with its inantle cold;

And the streamlets of joy shall cease to flow

When weary, seared age shall come, grey and old.

Oh, the raindrop of spring is a beautiful thing,

But a tale of sadness to come it doth bring;

Though now, like the sorrow of childhood, 'tis fleeting,
It tells of a future, far bitterer, weeping.

Риск.

NOVALIS:-HYMNS TO NIGHT.

FROM Schiller we have translated, from Herder too, from Lessing, and from Jean Paul Richter, yet to none of these translations has biographical notice been prefixed: why then is Novalis thus distinguished from the rest?-For this reason simply :-if, among the many readers of our Magazine, there be one purely English, one to whose ears the name and the sorrows of poor Novalis have never reached, we would not risk exposing to mere cursory perusal those sublime compositions, which tell perhaps the saddest tale a work of genius ever could unfold. Friedrich von Hardenberg, the Kirke White of Germany, was born of wealthy and pious parents, one of a large family of children distinguished for intellectual endowments; but of his brothers and sisters, most perished in their young bloom, so soon as he had learned to love them. Hardenberg, however, grew, and in course of time became most passionately attached to one of those too fuir beings whose surpassing loveliness (we speak in the sobriety of reason and observation) marks them to be not intended for this rough world. Hardenberg loved Sophie ** with all the ardour of a youthful poet; his suit was accepted, and he was betrothed :-shortly after, his Sophie died, the hopes of the poet were blighted, and he lived, thenceforth, but as a stranger upon earth. Within a month of the death of his mistress, he received intelligence that his eldest brother had been drowned; and, long ere he had recovered from this second shock, the beloved governess of Sophie, saddened at the loss of a pupil whose heart-strings were entwined with hers, followed her in sorrow to the grave. This was the last link that held Novalis to the world; that broken, his thoughts, his hopes, his prospects were in heaven. Tieck (by whom, in conjunction with F. Schlegel, his collected writings were given to the world) has beautifully expressed the character of his life and works, by saying that on the things of earth he looked with the bright eyes of a heavenly visitant; while in taking for his theme the glories of heaven, he described the sphere with which his spirit was most familiar. Until his twenty-ninth year he lingered in this world, and then his soul once more was with the lost Sophie. He commenced several romances, and left them fragments. "Heinrich von Ofterdingen" was to have introduced a new era in poetry :—

it is a fragment. Sad indeed are all these fragments, all commenced after his bereavement, breathing the spirit of his holy sorrow, their end forestalled by an untimely death. Most expressive, however, of the intensity of feeling in this "wanderer upon earth," are his Hymns to Night,-six short, but eloquent compositions, exquisitely touching, and by which he is principally known. In these the poet's pure, exalted mind, bowed by the bitterest of earth's afflictions, pours forth in the season of suffering its noble inspiration. Filled with sublime and heavenly meditation, the spirit of Novalis soars here beyond the vulgar ken; to the uncongenial worldly mind these glowing thoughts of an inspired imagination are often hidden or obscure; he only who can enter fully into the spirit of the hour that called them forth may hope to read aright the glorious sentiments these hymns unfold; hymns that an angel-spirit sang! In these, the bitter plaints of the bereaved Novalis pour forth all their eloquence; in these, we learn to love their pious author; and from these, hard must he be of heart who can withhold his sympathy, though he learn to know them only through the barest and most meagre of translations. All works lose by translation; those of " the poet of Night" lose most of all; yet even this thought shall not deter us from the task of love, the honest tribute of a stranger's sympathy. Each month, until they be completed, a few lines of our Magazine will be devoted to one of these immortal hymns, and we do most sincerely trust that the English reader will endeavour rather to sympathize with the feelings of their unfortunate author, than to criticize those errors of style and diction that indicate an inefficient translator.

HAL.

HYMNS TO NIGHT.-I.

WHO that has life and intelligence, loves not, before all the surrounding miracles of space, everjoyous light with its tints, its beams, and its waves, its mild omnipresence, when it comes as the waking day. Like the inmost soul of life, it is inhaled by the giant universe of gleaming stars, that dance as they swim in its blue flood; it is inhaled by the glittering, eternally motionless stone, by the living plant that drinks it in, by the wild and impetuous beast in its many forms; but above all, by the glorious stranger, with eyes of intellect, majestic step, with lips melodious, and gently

closed. As a king over earthly nature, it calls forth to countless changes every power, binds and loosens bonds unnumbered, and hangs around every earthly being its heavenly picture. Alone its presence declares the wondrous glory of the kingdoms of the world.

I turn aside to the holy, the inexpressible, the mysterious Night. Afar off lies the world, buried in some deep chasm desolate and lonely is the spot it filled. Through the chords of the breast sighs deepest sorrow. I will sink down into the dewdrops, and with ashes will I be commingled. The distant lines of memory, desires of youth, the dreams of childhood, a whole life's short joys and hopes vain, unfulfilled, come clothed in grey, like evening mists, when the sun's glory has departed. Elsewhere has the light broken upon habitations of gladness. What, should it never return again to its children, who with the faith of innocence await its coming?

What fount is thus suddenly opened within the heart, so full of fore-thought, that destroys the soft breath of sorrow? Thou alsodost thou love us, gloomy Night? What holdest thou concealed beneath thy mantle that draws my soul towards thee with such mysterious power? Costly balsam raineth from thy hand; from thy horn pourest thou out manna; the heavy wings of the spirit liftest thou. Darkly and inexpressibly do we feel ourselves moved : a solemn countenance I behold with glad alarm, that bends towards me in gentle contemplation, displaying, among endless allurements of the mother, lovely youth! How poor and childish does the light now seem! How joyous and how hallowed is the day's departure !-Therefore then only, because Night dismissed thy vassals, hast thou sown in the infinity of space those shining balls to declare thine almighty power, and thy return in the season of absence? More heavenly than those glittering stars seem the unnumbered eyes that Night has opened within us. Farther can they see than beyond the palest of that countless host; without need of light can they pierce the depths of a spirit of love, that fills a yet more glorious space with joy beyond expression. Glory to the world's Queen, the high declarer of spheres of holiness, the nurse of hallowed love! Thee, thou tenderly beloved one, doth she send to me, thee, lovely sun of the Night. Now I awaken, for I am Thine and Mine: the Night hast thou given as a sign of life, and made me man. Devour with glowing spiritual fire this earthly body, that I ethereal may abide with thee in union yet more perfect, and then may the bridal Night endure for ever.

IN

HISTORY AND HISTORIANS.

No. III.

In my last paper, I explained the system of historical study, which seeks to bring out, from the comparison of events, laws of human action, applicable to all times and nations; and this I endeavoured to elucidate, by the analogy of the laws of the physical creation, and concluded that, in order to the correct development of any such law, or its application to existing circumstances, the closest and most accurate attention is demanded, that we may thoroughly enter into the points of similarity, which will bring a common law into operation, and those of dissimilarity, which will, in a greater or less degree, modify its effects. It is, perhaps, to the latter that our attention should be more especially directed; for the human mind is prone to seize on some one or more points of agreement, which obtrude themselves on its notice and strike its fancy, while it neglects many and important differences, which lie under the surface, and require care and research to bring them to light. Numberless are the fallacies in reasoning, and the false deductions from history, which arise from the non-perception of latent distinctions. "See!" cries one, "how well the United States of America can get on with democracy,-consider the energy of her people, their enterprise, their wealth, the plenty diffused among all classes. Why should not we get on as well without king or aristocracy?" How easily does he pass over the almost infinite differences between an old and new country. "Think," exclaims another, of opposite politics, "how happy and contented are the people under the paternal government of Austria. Oh, that we were blessed with an unlimited monarchy !" With what facility does he, too, slip over the differences, based on the effects of ages, which render the states of England and Austria utterly dissimilar. Thus it is, though not often so palpably, that men argue; it is for the true and sincere student of history to avoid to the utmost this subtle and dangerous error. It is my purpose to endeavour, in the following remarks, to point out some few characteristics of resemblance or difference, which will mainly affect the character, history, and tendencies of nations, and must be taken into consideration in applying to them such general laws as extended research may have enabled us to discover. Nor is it