throne the winds. For this faculty we adopt the Poet's name of Mind: though its names are as numerous as its effects. When, by its selfacting impulse, it looks towards the future, it is represented by Hope; when towards the past, by Memory.

Campbell's Poem on Hope is mainly descriptive of its pleasures,— treating of its metaphysical relations no farther than to state that it moulds the passions, and gives scope to the imagination. Cowper goes further, and heightens his picture by contrast. The one describes the pleasures of possessing Hope, the other, the miseries of being without it. Deeply indeed does Cowper impress on us the necessity of Hope for our happiness and welfare, by depicting the dreamy wretchedness of those to whom the future is a blank, in whom the mind is asleep, who thus live on without life, like the palsy-stricken patient, incapable of motion, and susceptible of no feeling but that of pain. Such a state might be relieved by the pleasures of Memory; but then Rogers tells us that, for the full enjoyment of them, the Mind must have been awakened, otherwise Memory would be a curse and not a blessing to us,-for the remembrance of merely sensual pleasures, distracts us with a fretful regret at their loss. To be a source of pleasure to us, Memory must "waft us up the stream of time," must recall other scenes than those of gaiety, other persons than boon-companions. And when the Mind can do this, cannot it also people with forms and objects the magic-mirror of the future? If then we enjoy, in the highest sense, the pleasures of Memory, we shall probably enjoy those of Hope also. Rogers mentions a proof of the dependence of one on the other; he tells us that Memory imparts a vivid colouring to Hope; giving substance to the unsubstantial, and exhibiting it in a more tangible shape. Such being the natur of these two great developements of the mind within us, and such ther connection with each other, what ought to be the tendency of our lives, how did He, who thus constituted our faculties, intend us to use them?

Hope and Memory seem connected with the two great ends of lifethought and action. The one, by looking forward to the future, would make our course progressive; the other, by looking back upon the past, would make it consistent and regular. They are the spur and the curb of our energies,-our sail and our ballast as we are tossed on the waves of this troublesome world. From the one, we learn that we must each have an object before us, from the other, that this object must be practical. They teach us that while we try to make our efforts enlightened, we must not make them visionary; while we try to make them practical, we must not make them mechanical. At our time of life, both these faculties must be strong within us,-let us remember that they may be of real advantage to ourselves and others.

Ομικρον.

THE LEGEND OF ST. ILDEGUND;

OR

HOW THE DRACHENFELS CAME TO BE SO CALLED.

[Between Bonn and Nonnenworth (the last scene of the "brave Roland"), close to Köningswinter, stands the ruin-crowned rock called the Drachenfels. It is by far the steepest and most commanding of the Siebengebürge. It rises abruptly from the bank of the river. Like a sylvan giant, its middle is clothed with luxuriant foliage and vines; whilst on its summit the walls of the castle still seem to bid defiance to the havoc of the sharp air. At its foot a cavern, called Dombruch. Connected with this cavern, and the conversion of the people to Christianity, and also with the name of the hill ("Dragon's Rock"), a legend is told, of which we give the substance. The word fels, it will be observed, is the same as is still applied to some of our own northern mountains," Scaw-fell," and others.]

1.

On Rhine's fair banks cathedral bells
Their holy music oft prolong;
On Rhine's fair bosom sweetly swells
The peaceful boatman's measured song.

11.

Yet death and war here oft have been.
And still the shuddering peasant tells,-

Gazing upon the altered scene

The Legend of the Drachenfels.

III.

Beneath the height where nothing, save

The sturdy walls, Time's finger mock,
There dwelt, beside the sleepy wave,

A dragon in a gloomy cave,

And thence the place was called the "Dragon's Rock."

-E'en if you have not been to school yet,-
(For parents, if they 're'wise indeed,
Will always let their children read
Such plays as that, being pretty sure
Their prohibitions can't endure;

And, if they tell them not to read, I hence
Foresee a fault ensue, called disobedience,)

VII.

So in the Drachenfels two lords

Lived at that time in deadly feud, Whose houses oft their murderous swords In mutual slaughter had imbued.

VIII.

A man must have a strong imagination
To enter into all that people did

In times, of which our foolish adulation

Half the deformities at least has hid,

For he who really in the fourteenth century
Would like to live, must have a mind much bent awry.

IX.

For instance, in the present case,

Instead of blowing up the base

Of Drachenfels, as was their proper place,
They needs must give their foreign foes a beating
(Fearing, like other Governments, a monster meeting.)
And ravaged a small neighbouring nation,
Reducing all their boats to wrecks, as
The papers want to do on the annexation
Of that most miserable place, the Texas.

X.

It chanced, in one of those same predatory
Excursions into the next town's dominions,

A "stalwart knight" (or, modernizing, read " a Tory,"
As he was rather firm in his opinions,

And looked with proper fear upon all change,

That might reduce his power or circumscribe his range),

XI

This gentlemanly thief, for self and town,

Burned twenty of the enemy's boroughs down,

And, among other captives taken there,

Brought home a maiden most divinely fair.

XII.

Count Radulph took this lovely maid,

And brought her with the other slaves to town;

Meaning next day to have them all displayed,

And in the market place by public sale knocked down.

XIII.

Von Robinswald was bid attend next morning,

But "begged to say he really was not used

To hold an auction on so short a warning;
However, lengthy bills must be excused."

XIV.

At the rising of the sun
The auction was begun,

For such a lengthy train

Will ne'er be " sold again."

XV.

"They're going much to cheap, upon my word; Lot 50 is a serviceable man,

A little aged, perhaps, but it's absurd

To think good lots can go for nothing: Dan, Walk the lot round;-Ten dollars? thank you, Sir ;' But fifteen dollars for this useful lot;

What a sad pity! well, I would prefer

His life to mine; ah! who said twenty? what

Twenty the old man, going, twenty one :
Twenty one dollars! going, going, gone."

XVI.

But when Lot 51 appeared,

A murmur through the assembly flew ; "She's very lovely!" "By my beard, Her hair how soft, her eyes how blue!"

XVII.

This was young Conrad's speech; he was the foe
Of Radulph's house, and well did Radulph know,
When such a lot had met young Conrad's eye,
He might be ruined-frustrated, might die.

XVIII.

Now loud uprose the clamour
Of bidders real and sham,
For some attempted first to buy,
And some were all a flam;
Slowly the voices sunk, till soon
Two only caught the ear;
One eager, as who begs a boon,—
One passionless and clear.

XIX.

Radulph bid on, till Conrad named

His whole estate, then franticly exclaimed—
"Count Radulph,'villain, if by wealth you can,
Make good your right by arms too, like a man.”

XX.

Now when the Common Council saw

The strife was running high;
They came down to the market-place
A stately company.

XXI.

And having first consulted,

They found it meet and right

That neither be insulted,

Each being such a knight.

So they bade the Town Crier proclaim their will,
Which he did when he'd shouted till all was still.

XXII.

"O yes! O yes! O yes! and be it known,
By order of the Council of the Town,
Expresses up to last night's date

The Dragon sends, they seem to state
He's much the same-or if we read them right,-
Perhaps he has still keener appetite,

Therefore the Council's wisdom has decreed
The choicest captives to his cave proceed;
And first this maiden, for to say the truth,
Our worthy neighbour has a sweetish tooth,
Thus we shall quench the dragon's wrathful fire,
God save the Mayor, the Council, and the Crier!"

XXIII.

The day wore on, and soon begun

To set o'er river, hill, and lea,
The glories of the last sweet sun
The maid shall ever see.

XXIV.

And now the sad procession, by Rhine's delicious wave,
Walked mournfully the fatal road down to the Dragon's cave.

XXV.

And Conrad Bassenheim went with them armed,

And swore no hair should on her head be harmed.
With lifted eyes, and moving lips of prayer,
And cheek that glowed in eve's refreshing air,
The maiden went, and ever as she passed,
A holy influence round her presence cast,
Bowed her meek head to Heaven's holy law,
And changed their pity into love and awe.

XXVI.

By this the sad procession had gained the cavern mouth,

Where yawned the sered and poisoned earth with sickliness and drouth.

XXVII.

She leaned against a holy tree,

And from her bosom drew,

A little cross of ebony,

And on it hung in ivory

The form of Him they slew.