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The loveliest flower in Nou-che-mal,

I have come, I have come.

"To the shades of the orange, and myrtle, and clove,
Where the golden-winged bee and the butterfly rove,
And the birds trill out their joyous lays
In mingling songs of love and praise,
For this beautiful fruit with leaves so green,
An offering to Nou-che-mal's beautiful queen,
I have come, I have come.

"How happy will be our Nym-gul-nair,
Nou-che-mal's queen, so lovely, so fair,
When on her head I place the wreath
Of orange boughs, that grew beneath
The clear blue skies of this land of bliss!
Oh! 'tis for a modest crown like this

I have come, I have come."

We confess we can see nothing so seductive in this song of the Syren as to induce any apprehensions for our hero. It is obviously an imitation of the Feast of Roses in Lalla Rookh, and the last line especially is suggested by "It is this, it is this." The names of the province and the queen are scraps from Byron and Moore and seem to be made up of Gulnare and Nourmahal.

PIROUZ then claims Allan as her prisoner. It seems that she has been promised the throne of Nou-che-mal by Nym-gul-nair, the reigning queen, who will abdicate in her favor as soon as she finds a young mortal fool enough to take the nectar" which Allen has imbibed. We suppose the fruit was a nectarine. Delighted in her success, she hurries off with Allan down the river, the two boats making a little regatta "along their watery way." They arrive soon at a whirlpool, which PIRouz tells Allan is the way that leads to her "palaces and festal halls." Allan does not like such a moist entrée and prepares for a manly resistance, when (as he tells us)

"One stifled scream,

The effort of expiring breath,

Awoke me from that fearful dream!"

No doubt the young gentleman felt relieved. Upon waking up his hero, we might reasonably expect that Mr. Farmer should show some little regard for the unities and come down from his fairy-flight to the inhabitants of this dull earth. But the first thing that Allan sees on the margin of the StaunThe echo of the song dies away, and Allan, look-ton river, by the light of the moon, is his friend ing up, sees a little green boat containing PIROUZ, PIROUZ, in flesh and blood, who bends over him in to whom we are now formally introduced. She is, a very familiar and affectionate manner, places her of course, an angelic creature, with no superfluity lips to his own and gives

of clothing, as we may infer from the following
description,

"Nor jewelled coif, nor highland snood,
Aught of her native beauty hid,
Her dazzling hair, in plaiting neat,
Flowed o'er her arms and swept her feet;
And as she stood in thoughtful mood,
One snowy hand concealed amid
The overhanging houghs which spread
Their leaves and fruits around her head,
The other placed with timid care
Upon her swelling breast so fair," &c.

She turned to look Allan and, being prepos sessed with his appearance, accosted him in a very western style of salutation;

"Stranger,' she said, in accents bland,
'Whence comest thou, and what to seek?

What is thy name and native land?

Why silent thus? Speak, stranger, speak!''

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"one burning kiss, Affection's own peculiar bliss."

Here Mr. Farmer descants on beauty, and we recommend the following statement to all who have read Mr. Jeffrey's Essay on that subject.

"E'en simple Beauty's self possesses

In her dark eye the magnet stone,
Whose soft attracting power alone,
Its willing victim dooms or blesses;
And how much more the light that flashes
Electric-like beneath the lashes

Of Beauty's eyes, when Beauty's form
Is more than mortal-half divine-
Whose every glance doth chill or warm
The life-blood at the heart, and twine
Around us mystic wreaths of love,
More fadeless, lasting and secure,

Than mortal Beauty ever wove

From all her blooming, transient store!"

est commiseration.

Will somebody tell us where the verb is, that the Five questions in a breath! Allan, to do him jus-substantive "light," in the 5th line, should govern? tice, stood this cross-examination very well, and as As the sentence runs, the poor widowed condisoon as PIROUZ would permit him to proceed, gave tion of "light," without its partner, excites our deepher full and satisfactory answers. PIROUZ then explains that she comes from fairy-land, and plucking from a neighboring tree a fruit of tempting hue, like Eve in the garden of Eden, gave it to Allan, who, like a genuine son of Adam, ate it, and feeling intoxicated by its influence, forthwith pressed

PIROUZ to his bosom,

"With many a kiss Of passionate and fervid zest."

But to our narrative. PIROUZ grows more and more tender, and at last throws her arm around Allan's waist and they leap together from the high precipice, down into the Staunton river. Sappho leaped into the Ionian sea and never rose again to the surface, but our lovers, more fortunate than the Lesbian maid, dropped unhurt into a skiff made of sea-weed. Where the sea-weed

"As laws profane the Deity."

Mr. Farmer is a lawyer, and is, doubtless, in the habit of having oaths administered. We are therefore sorry to see that he considers it a blasphemous

came from or whether it is a good material for boat-building, we shall not stop to enquire. We must follow our lovers down the river, where Allan hears the song of the Nightingale and sees fair acacia trees and orange groves. The boat speeds on through a glancing lake where "briny meteors" are seen in its wake; an allusion we sup- the hand of PIROUZ, but she bids him forbear. After the coronation, Allan kneels and kisses

pose to the phosporescence of the sea, which would be very pretty if the boat had been on Chesapeake Bay. We must not forget, however, that all this salt water and these aromatics and tropical fruits are on the Staunton river.

sure.

At last they reach a bold mountain, around the top of which airy forms, "like cherubs fair," are are seen flitting and guarding the Spring of PleaIt would really be worth a trip to the Staunton river to witness this remarkable spectacle. We have occasionally seen cherubs of muslin and pink ribbon in the corps de ballet, performing impossible flights on invisible wire, but rustic cherubs, actual residents of the county of Halifax or Charlotte we should be pleased, for the novelty of the thing, to number among our acquaintance.

But to proceed. Allan loquitur.

"These vague conjectures scarcely crossed
My brain, ere through a fissure passed
Our barque, and 1, in darkness lost,

Upon the world had looked my last."
(Here, let us say in parenthesis, we have a spe-
cimen of Mr. Farmer's unlucky divisions into verse.
It seems as if he had counted off his eight sylla-
bles and then stopped, without regard to the ar-
rangement of substantive and verb. Not unfre-
quently a trifling auxiliary or an insignificant pre-
position is made to occupy the place of last syllable
in the line. In the present instance, there are,
indeed, two important verbs in this position, but
they are so disjoined from their immediate con-
nexions as to render the verse most unmusical, and
to remind us in part of those ingenious diversions
of Mr. Canning, in which he represents his hero as

doomed to starve on water gru

el, never more to see the U

niversity of Gottingen.)

ceremony.

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Nay, I prefer
Thy kisses should not wasted be
On lipless hand, or bended knee :"

We italicise the line to show how little Mr. FarThe mer cares for grammatical construction. meaning of the passage is clear enough, but it makes PIROUz ask Allan not to kiss her knees, a most unprecedented, though certainly not an unreasonable request.

But we must pass on. PIROUZ and Allan enjoy the honey-moon in this subterranean paradise. He is invested with regal prerogative (how far in conflict with the State jurisdiction of Virginia, we are not informed) and every wish of his heart is gratified. But PIROUz imposes upon him one law. There is a certain tree, the fruit of which he must not touch, under penalty of immediate banishment from her presence. We think we have read something like this before. It occurs to us that the first law ever given to man was very much of this nature. But we make no imputation of plagiarism : We merely suggest the resemblance.

PIROUZ Soon becomes oppressed with a presentiment of evil and a fear that their loves will soon be cruelly dissolved, and goes off to kiss the spot where she first met her lover, as the best method of averting the blow. Allan wishes to go with with her, but to this she will not consent, and his feeling of loneliness, after her departure, is thus

described:

"How dull, insipid, is the hall,

Which late hath been the lighted scene
Of merriment and festival,

When silence reigns where mirth hath been,
And here and there, around the room,

Lie crushed and withered wreaths that speak

Of blushes spent, and wasted bloom
From many a lovely maiden's cheek!
Who hath not felt-when lingering there,
The last of jocund revellers left,

Like one of his last joy bereft-"

The barque, on issuing again from the fissure, glides into a gorgeous and magnificent grotto or cave, resplendent with gems and gold, and surpassing all the enchantments of the Arabian tale. We are not aware of the existence of any such cavern on the Staunton river, but let us not restrict this to Mr. Moore's sweet little verse, Mr. Farmer to geographical accuracy. Allan is, of course, transported by the beauty and dazzling splendors that surround him, when PIROUZ tells him to make himself very much at home, as it all belongs to him, as her husband. She then crowns him "Sovereign Lord of Nou-che-mal," and the little subjects of fairy-land kneel around him and take the oath of allegiance, kissing their hands, by way of a solemnity, and not the "sacred book,"

Our readers will readily remark the similarity of

I feel like one, who treads alone,
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.

Allan to console himself lies down under the forbidden tree and goes to sleep, (Mr. Farmer is famous for putting people to sleep,) has the nightmare and wakes up, (where do you think, gentle

reader?) on the very rock spoken of in the open-broken Agnes, after lingering many years on the ing of the story, holding in his hand

banks of Staunton River, (quis talia fando, tempe-
ret a lachymis,) at last drowns herself beneath its
rushing tide. Thus ends, gentle reader, the sad
story of the "Fairy of the Stream." And thus is
described the scenery of Virginia!
The next poem of Mr. Farmer's is entitled "AL-
CESTE." It is sung by a wandering harper, in the

"The poisonous fruit of fairy-land That grew a thousand leagues away." Three thousand miles! Think of that, Master Brooke! Allan and PIROUZ had, but a short time before, travelled it in a few hours in a sea-weed skiff, and now it is far, far away, and the Staunton presence of the renowned Bobadil el Chico, the river is a thousand leagues in length. Mr. Farmer must excuse us, but we don't believe a word of it. Allan had plucked the forbidden fruit and was visited with the curse. The curse is ushered in with italics and a note of admiration, and we are to be duly impressed with its awful import. Allan bitterly laments his fate and thinks it a hard case get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream; that he should be exiled from his empire, because an unconscious moment he had disobeyed the commands of his queen. He then relates how to soothe his mental inquietude, he went abroad and travelled for a year, without forgetting his PIROUZ, how, returning to his native village, he

last of the Moors, within the gates of his palace. We have not room to give anything more than a mere abstract of this extraordinary performance. It is a dream, of course, and we would recommend Mr. Farmer, in his next edition, to prefix to it as a motto, the words of Bottom the weaver, "I will

in

Never told his love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Prey on his damask cheek,

and that to Agnes alone, had he ever revealed it.
We are afraid that our readers, in the many in-
tricacies of Allan's story, have forgotten all about
poor Agnes, who was compelled to play the "elo-
quent listener" on the banks of Staunton River.
Mr. Farmer now recurs to her in the "Epilogue,"
where Allan reminds Agnes how he wooed and
won her,

"In that embowered solitude,

Where every night the lone bulbul
Was wont to trill its mellow notes,"

it shall be called Bottom's dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play before the duke." The thread is as followeth: Heber, a young man of whose nativity we are ignorant, goes to Persia to seek an eastern bride. Upon reaching his destination, he apostrophizes the "bright spirit of the starry skies" and tells the spirit that he has come from his native land

"To this far isle to lay my head,

Heart-broken in a stranger's tomb."
A "heart-broken head" is what we never heard

of before, but as we said, “ALCESTE” is an extra-
ordinary poem. Heber goes to sleep and dreams
abont Venice and a radiant maiden kneeling before
the image of the Virgin, and the rites of Catholic
worship, and waking up, suddenly changes his mind
about an eastern bride, and starts off for Venice
instanter. Arriving there, he finds the maiden of
his dream at the altar praying to be rescued from
a compulsory marriage, which is to take place on

and then, declaring that he had told her all, winds the morrow. He walks up the aisle and interuptup the story.

And now for the Sequel. 'Tis sunset.

and Agnes sit musingly together.

ing her orisons, (though he had never seen her beAllan fore except in a vision,) and exclaiming "at last, But a "dread at last!" "he pressed his bride." ALCESTE, for of unknown evil" darkens up the brow of Allan, this is her name, consents to be his bride, and and the bright particular star that beamed gently to avoid the opposition of her family, they jump on his love seems to have paled in the sky. He into a boat with a single oar and put off for Persia

communicates his fears to Agnes.

"And as he spoke, the star was hurled
Blood-red and flaming, down the heaven,
A stricken and a blasted world,

To chaos from its orbit driven."

Without venturing to dispute the astronomical fact which is here set forth, we should like to know where the chaos was to which the planet was hurled Possibly among the Nebula.

The plot thickens. To the astonishment of Allan and Agnes, PIROUz appears in her skiff, and after delivering a long and somewhat pompous oration, carries off Allan by the magic influence of her wand. Allan, Mr. Farmer tells us, was never seen or heard of more, and the poor, deserted, heart

over the Adriatic sea. Since the three wise men
of Gotham went to sea in a bowl, we do not recol-
lect so adventurous a voyage. Mr. Farmer does
not tell us anything of their passage, whether stor-
my or prosperous, but transports us at once to Per-
sia, where they live in a white-walled cottage and
practise a religious observance of the Catholic
forms of worship.

"Nor rose nor myrtle, when it dies
Beneath the sun when rudely torn,
E'er half so rich incense exhales
Upon the evening's sighing gales,

As from that altar upward borne,
To meet acceptance in the skies
Did then so gently, sweetly rise,

In prayer's half-uttered, faltering tone."

What was it that "did then so gently, sweetly | sia, and that his muse may bring herself down to rise?" Can any body tell? good English. The book may be had at all the bookstores of our city.

The course of true love never did run smooth, however, and ere long the Venetian lover, who was espoused to Alceste, comes to their cottage in the disguise of a monk, and tells a cock-and-bull story of having been exiled from Thessaly, (the last place in the world that he ought to have mentioned to give probability to his tale,) on account of his religious opinions. Then he draws his sword upon Heber, who, being on his guard, gives him a deathwound. The disguised monk, however, as he lies upon the floor, contrives to stab ALCESTE, and so they die away together in a very burnt-cork and melo-dramatic sort of fashion. Heber then tells Boabdil el Chico that ever since the fatal hour, he has wandered harp in hand, through many climes, pouring on the breeze his tale of wo, and, in his wanderings, has reached the Moorish palace.

THE POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS; OR THE PIL-
GRIMAGE OF LOVE. By Thomas Miller. New York.
J. C. Riker. 1848.

Flower-books are among the most popular of literary gifts; and some of them from the judicious poetical selecWith the exception, however, of Nature's Gems—a splentions are well calculated to advance the cause of good taste. did quarto published two or three years since by D. Appleton & Co.,—we do not recall any specimen of this species of book, which in an artistic point of view is not more or less objectionable. In this respect, the volume above named deserves high praise. The flowers are admirably executed and colored by hand, by Ackerman. The typography and binding are superb; while the text is far superior to the ordinary contents of similar works. All readers of taste coincide in admiration of the poetical Basket-maker. His genuine moral taste and pure morality have made his books Boabdil el Chico is disgusted with the poem and for the young and more elaborate writings deservedly popu his comments thereupon are the very best criticismlar. In the present instance we note the same excellen cies, accompanied by a richer vein of poetical moralizing. that could be adduced. Fadladeen himself never These attractions are enhanced by a brief, but pertinent gave a nicer opinion.

"And you call this poetry-and moreover presume to offend the ears of Boabdil El Chico with such balderdash ! Why, my valet here can compose better rhymes, and mayhap sing them too. Out upon thee !" cried the ungenerous monarch. Then calling to the guard-" Take him to prison that his head as well as his harp may be confiscated."

introduction from the pen of Mrs. Oakes Smith, the American editor of the volume.

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The "other poems" of the volume consist of To an imaginative reader, the Chinese characters upon "Ki-tum-te-wa, or the Phantom Horseman," which the yellow covers of these handsome volumes suggest a we pass over, and several fugitive pieces, some of mysterious attraction and revive all the strange anecdotes once current, of the stationary civilization and secret dithem really very pretty, under the title of "Twi-plomacy of the Eastern empire. A glance at the interior light Hours" and "Heart-Whispers." We wish will prove not less gratifying to the lover of accurate inforwe had room, in justice to Mr. Farmer, to insert mation. Our limits forbid an analysis of the contents; but "Love's Choice," which is far the best thing we have seen from his pen.

The book closes with a piece of silliness, worthy of its opening. It is called " Heart-Whisper, No.

IV."

"WHISPER IV.

"A little flow'ret, sweet and fair,
Once in a quiet valley grew:
'Twas nurtured by the fragrant air,
And by the fragrant dew.
Oh! 'twas a lovely, lovely flower!
To Love 'twas nearly allied;
But in a dark, ill-fated hour,
Rude fingers plucked it-and it died-
And never bloomed again."

Dear sensibility, oh la!

1 heard a little lamb cry ba!

we assure our readers that the study and observation of twelve years is concentrated, as it were, into a result cred

table alike to the industry and care of the author. The scope of the work is indicated by the title. The manner in which it is executed indicates that no expense has been spared. A new map of the Empire is arranged and there are numerous graphic illustrations, principally engraved by J. W. Orr. The enterprising publishers have not issued, among their many standard volumes, a work of its kind more intrinsically valuable and thoroughly prepared. We commend it to our readers with the utmost confidence.

A TREATISE ON THE LAW OF COPYRIGHT, &c., &c., &e.
with some notices of the History of Literary Property.
By George Ticknor Curtis, Counsellor at Law. Boston:
Charles C. Little and James Brown. 1847.

A very useful volume from the pen of a lawyer, whose aim has been to present a condensed exposition of the law as it obtains on the subject of copyright in books, dramatic and musical compositions, letters and other mangThe poor little flow'ret died and (oh disastrous scripts, engravings and sculpture" both in England and America. Apart from its intrinsic merit, as a contribution fate!) never bloomed again! The Italics are Mr. to legal science, we do not know when we have seen a Farmer's. All we can say to this is, what Sam more interesting book, and we do not hesitate, therefore, to say that it should be read not only by the profession and Weller told Mr. Winkle, when that gentleman com- the fraternity of authors, but by every man who would plained that the ice was slippery, "Not a wery un-keep up with the enduring and respectable literature of the common thing, sir."

We now conclude our remarks with the hope that if Mr. Farmer should ever write another poem on Virginia scenery, it may say a little less of Per

age. The notes to the volume especially are full of agreeable reading and acceptable information. We cannot close this hasty notice without expressing our satisfaction at the the usual brochures of Little and Brown,) which is grateful very excellent style of publication, (quite in keeping with to the eye, in this day of bad printing.

PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM―JNO. R. THOMPSON, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.

VOL. XIV.

RICHMOND, MARCH, 1848.

ANCIENT GREECE.

HER HISTORY AND LITERATURE.

In publishing the following clear and able view of Grecian History and Literature, we think it proper to express our dissent from the author's opinion upon The Homeric Question. We entertain the old belief, that HOMER was not a mere fanciful name, given by the Greeks to their personified idea of epico-poetic excellence, but was a MAN, probably old and blind, who wrote, or at least composed, the Iliad and Odyssey-whoever may have written the other poems attributed to him. Our author lays an ingeni ous foundation for his Theory about Homer, in an earlier page of the article; where, having stated as probable, that Deucalion was but a symbol of the Flood, and that his son Hellen (from whom the Greeks were called Hellenes) was only a “personification of the tribe and intended by his relation to Deucalion to indicate that the commencement of the race dated back to the re-peopling of the earth;" he says, “This method of interpretation” is “a key to much that is otherwise mysterious and absurd in the fabulous genealogies of" antiquity. “By the application of this beautiful prin

ciple," adds he, "modern criticism has converted into au-
thentic history, or at least rationally explained, many of
those wonderful legends," &c. And again—"This ten-
dency of the Greek character to personify the indefinite
and to embody the ideal," ***"is strikingly exhibited
in their whole system of traditionary legends,” &c.
By all this, the reader is well prepared to receive our
author's closing remark upon the Homeric Question-that
*Homer and Hesiod will stand, each as the personification
of a whole class of heroic bards." Certainly, to our view,

no structure ever had a more "ideal" basis. But no one
can fail to be struck with the modesty, so characteristic of

true scholarship, that pervades our correspondent's discus

sion of this question. He evidently but glances at the ar

guments which are in his mind: and we should be grati

fied, as doubtless our readers would, if he would present

those arguments—in a form, however, as brief and popular
as he can, to suit the general taste and the dimensions of
our magazine. It seems to us easy to answer his reason
drawn from the doubtful existence of alphabetical writing
in Homer's time: but we do not wish to detain the reader.
[Ed. Mess.

"Vos exemplaria Graeca,
Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna."

To the student of ancient history, there is no name that awakens so many thrilling associations as that of Greece.

The influence of her institutions, her history, her philosophy and her poetry in forming the liter

VOL XIV-17

NO. 3.

ature, perhaps the tastes and feelings of every succeeding age, may be more easily imagined than estimated, even by those conversant with her history. But though it would be a difficult task to trace out the influence thus exerted, still it will ever be a pleasing and an instructive employment, to turn for a while from the scenes of confusion and turmoil, of daring ambition and restless actiworld in which we live, and calmly survey the invity, that so strongly mark the outlines of the busy stitutions and the character of a people whose actions fill so large a space in the world's history.

The character of a people is undoubtedly influenced in a considerable degree by that of the country which they inhabit, but in a manner so general and indefinite, that its amount cannot easily be determined. The Geography of Greece is remarkable in many respects. Situated at the SouthEastern verge of Europe, and almost equally accessible to each of the three great continents of the eastern hemisphere, it occupied the great centre towards which the trade and commerce of the ancient world tended, and from which the radiations of genius and knowledge extended in every direction. The limits of this country, called by its inhabitants Hellas, were never very accurately defined, but at farthest embraced a tract of small extent in comparison with that of most modern kingdoms.

It is remarkable for the great extent of its seacoast in proportion to its whole area; and if we consider the clusters of islands in the Ægean, as properly forming a part of the same country, it is peculiarly distinguished in this respect from every other portion of the globe.

It has been thought by some that the proportion of sea-coast in any country is always connected the progress of civilization and the arts, as well with, and probably exercises a great influence over terprise of its inhabitants; and if this theory be as the general developments of the genius and ennot altogether fanciful, we may look to this circumwho dwelt in a land so strongly marked by this stance as one index to the character of the people peculiarity.

But whilst thus noted for its general position, it is no less so for its own internal features. In glancing at a map it will be seen that almost every district is encircled by ranges of steep and lofty mountains, and thus separated from the others by natural barriers, broken occasionally by the abrupt defiles and narrow passes so celebrated both in the history and the poetry of the inhabitants. It was doubt

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