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قراءة كتاب The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 13, No. 375, June 13, 1829
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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction Volume 13, No. 375, June 13, 1829
class="i2">Life is a lake that drowneth all in pain,
Death is so near it ceaseth all annoy,
Life is so leav'd that all it yields is vain;
And as by life to bondage Man was brought,
Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.
BEAUTY.
Nought under Heaven so strongly doth allure
The sense of man and all his mind possess,
As Beauty's lovely bait that doth procure
Great warriors oft their rigour to repress,
And mighty hands forget their manliness.
Driven with the power of an heart robbing eye,
And wrapt in flowers of a golden tress,
That can with melting pleasance mollify
Their hard'ned hearts enur'd to blood and cruelty.
LEARNING.
——But that Learning in despite of fate
Will mount aloft and enter Heaven's gate;
And to the seat of Jove itself advance,
Hermes had slept in Hell with Ignorance.
Yet as a punishment they added this,
That he and Poverty should always kiss.
And to this day is every scholar poor,
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.
FEELING.
——The feeling power which is life's root,
Through every living part itself doth shed,
By sinews which extend from head to foot,
And like a net all over the body spread.
Much like a subtle spider, which doth sit
In middle of her web which spreadeth wide,
If aught do touch the outmost thread of it,
She feels it instantly on every side.
INJUSTICE.
So foul a thing, O thou injustice art,
That torment'st the doer and distrest;
For when a man hath done a wicked part,
O how he strives to excuse—to make the best;
To shift the fault t' unburden his charg'd heart,
And glad to find the least surmise of rest;
And if he could make his, seem other's sin,
O what repose, what ease he'd find therein.
RICHES.
Vessels of brass oft handled brightly shine.
What difference between the richest mine
And basest earth, but use? for both not used
Are of little worth; then treasure is abused,
When misers keep it; being put to loan,
In time it will return us two for one.
THE IDIOT LOVER.
(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)
(For the Mirror.)
"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman."
John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland. He was educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw excellently. He possessed a small, though independent fortune. However, notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became a lover, to be an idiot.
At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a beautiful young Swiss lady. She was considerably younger than our hero, was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable object. John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that mauvaise honte, with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home. I will not disgust my fair readers with a minute description of all his absurdities; one example, or so, shall suffice.
One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with Laconi's sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father's château, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms. Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel. No sooner, however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able to answer her greeting. She was also confused for a moment at his manner, but immediately began her walk with much disgust and nonchalance; while he, like a silly valet de chambre, followed behind, leaving his dear mistress' questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon. At length, to the lady's infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her father's château appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, "I—I beg pardon, ma—madam, I have been considering—." "You have, indeed, Mr. John," quickly returned the smiling damsel, "but I think you might have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to consider the moon!" To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely foolish and ridiculous. However, when they had actually gained the gate of the château, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him. Without hearing the lady's sweet "good night," as she tripped gaily from him, he exclaimed, "Madam, can you love me?" This appeal was not heard by the flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father's door, which opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover, who had not courage sufficient to follow her.
Whether our idiot did not comprehend the behaviour of his mistress, I cannot say; certain it is, he went home well contented with the success he imagined he had gained towards winning her heart. But, in reality, she was disgusted with his foolery, and ceased paying any more visits to her female friend, in order to avoid the sight of so strange a lover.
John, however, was a kind of philosopher, and calmly sustained his love misfortunes. A particular occurrence happened which will somewhat account for this passive resignation. One evening, during a solitary walk, he saw his identical mistress in company with a young French officer. He walked sullenly home, wrote some verses on the inconstancy of women, drew from recollection a portrait of the cruel fair, which he hung in his study, and banished his former pretences. Report says, that he lived the remainder of his days in a state of celibacy. G.W.N.
SIR HUMPHRY DAVY.
Sincerely do we regret to announce the death of this great and good man—the most celebrated philosopher of our times, who has done more for the happiness of his species than any associated Academy in Europe. He died at Geneva, May 29, aged 51. We shall endeavour to do justice to his talents and amiable character, in a Memoir to be published at the close of this volume of THE MIRROR—prefixed to which will be a fine Portrait of the illustrious deceased.
SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.
DISCOVERY OF THE FATE OF LA PEROUSE.
Abridged from the United Service Journal.
The fate of this celebrated French navigator, which for upwards of forty years has remained enveloped in mystery, has at length been satisfactorily ascertained, a result that is owing to