forth from his heated fancy and restless,
brain.
These, hailed with acclamation,
gathered from his lips by admiring country-
men, and handed down from sire to son form
the rude poetry of nations in their infancy.

The Ode is not the dictate of the cold, reasoning powers. It is the true language of inspiration, the language of

"The few whom genius gave to shine

Through every unborn age and undiscovered clime;" -it is the overflowing of the almost bursting soul, the pouring forth of passion, like the torrent from the rock, too mighty to be restrained. "It is the dream of genius in its most entranced and imaginative mood."

It is not in the

THE ESSAYIST.

WOMAN.

Oh, woman! lovely woman! thou wert made
To temper man We had been brutes without thee!

so; but notwithstanding my misfortune-
I AM a bachelor, and likely to continue
for 1 am not one of those crabbed beings who
convinced that there is not a more blissful
boast of my single blessedness-I am well
state of human existence, or a more truly en-
viable condition of life, than a union with an
amiable and virtuous woman. This is a cu-

rious declaration, by the by, from one who soft piping time of peace" may seem to have foresworn the whole sex; that its genius delights to dwell; but "when but let that pass. My reasons for continuthe storm begins to lower," when the ing as I am did not certainly originate in minds of men are roused beyond their ordi- any pique or displeasure: I have always nary pitch, when life is the frail tenure of delighted to be in the society of women;

a day, when broil, and feud, and strife, rage the deadliest then it is that the genius of the Ode ascends triumphant: borne aloft on the tongue of the trumpet, it mingles with each shout of the victors, each shriek

of the vanquished; and its wild inspiring

measures are pealed forth amidst the shock of encountering hosts.

There never surely was a species of com

position, a more universal favourite amongst

men, than this; for there perhaps exists not the country, however rude it may be, how

and I hear that even now and the frost of

sixty years begins to whiten my temples-I am quite a "lady's man." I therefore consider myself privileged to prate about woman; and if my lucubrations will justify my temerity with the reader, I shall be amply rewarded, and well contented with the result of my achievement.

The substantial comforts which are produced by an affectionate and well-propor

tioned marriage are so numerous and exquisite, that no means, one would imagine, would be left untried, by which a blessing so valuable might be attained: but I am least among the higher classes, is influenced sorry to say, that marriage now-a-days, at more by the glittering sceptre of Plutus, than by the soft and silken fetters of Cupid:

ever wanting in all the arts and refinements of polished life, that has not produced, and that does not repeat the song with rapture. The Indian savage has his war song, the Laplander a verse to the maiden he loves, the Hero has a stanza to the god of war, and this, perhaps, may be one reason why I the Bacchanalian to the bright red wine,- have not ventured upon matrimony in my the Monk a hynn to his patron saint, the old age. I met my young friend, Jack Neville, the other day, in high gree and spirits. shook me by the hand, "Wish me joy, my old buck," said he, as he

Lover a sonnet "made to his mistress' eye

brow."

That the Ode is far removed from the province of Reason, that it is truly the child of fancy, is plainly seen; not only from an examination of the subjects which its writers have usually chosen, but also from the circumstance, that unless we are acquainted with the manners and history of a nation,-unless, indeed, we are fully alive to its hopes, its fears, its prejudices, its allusions, the story of its superstitions, the pride of its ancestry, we may despair of extracting the least pleasure, nay, even the least meaning, from a perusal of its lyric poetry.

The subjects of the Ode have been, in all ages, and in all countries, nearly the same. Either love, or war, or joy, or hope, or fear, or hatred, or despair, -the passions, in short, in every flight that they take, in every hue that they assume, have been its unceasing theme:

"Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by Fairy fiction drest;
Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror tyrant of the throbbing breast."

[To be continued.]

"wish me joy; I'm going to be married!" "Indeed!" said I ; "to whom?" "To Emily Wentworth, a devilish fine girl, and a twenty-thousand pounder. What say you to that, my old boy ?" "Say!" I replied; "I don't know well-bred, and so forth?" what to say. Is she amiable, accomplished, "'Pon honour, I

never asked," quoth he; " but I dare say she is. At any rate, she has got twenty thousand pounds, and that's quite enough for me;" and away he went, just as happy, and precisely with the same feelings, as if he had obtained a prize in the lottery. Really the taking to one's self a wife is now little better than engaging with a partner in busiand most necessary consideration, while ness, the amount of capital being the first

qualities a great deal more requisite and beneficial are never once taken into the account. The times seem to be passed, writes a favourite, though by no means a fashionable author, when, in the prime of life, virtu

ous love led young men to select a compan- and slender rate of worldly calculation, will ion for the amiable qualities of the mind and be woefully deceived. In the broad glare of person, independently of all pecuniary con- prosperity and happiness, her more endearsiderations. Such Arcadian simplicity has ing virtues may not be so apparent, because long since fallen into decay, and the loveli- there is but little necessity for their display; est of women may now pine in hopeless ce- but, in adversity, she is a ministering angel, libacy; for if they cannot purchase a hus- whose kind and affectionate solicitude band, as they would purchase a gown, they breaks forth with all the grace and lovelimay live and die without one. In vain has ness of female fondness, and whose inspiritNature given them the vermeil cheek, and ing and consoling tenderness wipes away the eye of sensibility, if Fortune has refused the tear of misery, alleviates the pang of her more brilliant gifts. Young men gaze, disease, assuages the agony of mental sufindeed, like children at the peacock, and fering, smoothes the ruffled brow of misforturn away without any tenderness of senti- tune, and soothes into placidity the anment, or at least without any wish to pos-guish of the troubled spirit. There is in sess the beauty they admire upon honoura- every woman-to borrow the words of my -, a spark of heavenly ble conditions. It is indeed observable, that young friend young men of the present age often consider fire, which is dormant in the broad day-light marriage as an evil in itself, and only to be of prosperity, but which kindles up, and engaged in when the pecuniary advantages burns, and blazes, in the dark hour of adattending it afford a compensation. For the versity. No man knows what the wife of sake of the good, it seems they sometimes his bosom is-no man knows what a miniscondescend to accept the evil; a most in- tering angel she is until he has gone with sulting opinion, and no less unreasonable her through the fiery trials of this world. and untrue than it is contumelious and disBut let us hearken to the character of a graceful; for marriage, prudent and affec- good, tender, and faithful wife, as depicted tionate marriage, is favourable to every vir- by Erasmus, who seems to have entertained tue that can contribute to the comfort and a due estimation of connubial happiness. Is happiness of the individual, while, at the there, he asks, any friendship among mortals same time, it extensively and most essential- worthy of being compared to that between ly benefits society.

man and wife? Woman will forsake her

This heartless and mercenary custom is, friends and her kindred for the sake of her in a great measure, attributable to an erro- husband, to him she looks for happiness; in neous opinion of the true character of wo-him does she fearlessly and fondly confide; man, as well as to the unfeeling profligacy of with him she wishes to live and to die. Is man: for it is an opinion which is only en- he rich? He has one who will endeavour tertained by those whose unruly passions to increase and preserve his wealth. Is he and pursuits lead them to contemplate the poor? He has one who will willingly toil opposite sex in situations where no kindly with him in the acquirement of gain. If he or tender virtue can be displayed, but where bask in the joyous sunshine of prosperity, all the boisterous and sordid passions of de- she will double his happiness; if he be overbased nature are exhibited in their most en-cast with the gloomy shadows of adversity, gaging and most enticing attire. It is from she will console him-she will sit by his such sad specimens of alluring profligacy side-she will attend him with all the sweet that an opinion of woman is adduced, as per- and winning assiduity of love, and only wish fectly fallacious as it is perfectly degrading: that she could appropriate to herself the and because there are some women who have sorrow which gives him pain. When he is no virtue, no fine and tender feelings in their at home, she will amuse and delight him nature, the whole sex is adjudged to be de- with the intuitive accomplishments of love, ceitful, vicious, intriguing, and distrustful. and after absence, she will welcome his arIt is from the frequent contemplation of wo- rival with joy, and hail his return with rapman, in the most degrading and deplorable ture. of all conditions, that the modern atheist, Thus it is with a happy marriage, where and the base slave to the worst of passions, there is a mutual interchange of love and unblushingly asserts, that marriage is the respect; but it may be alleged, in extenmost inveterate foe to human happiness. uation of purchased marriages, that the fasAlas! that there should be such wickedness cinating qualities are by no means possessed in the world! Thank Heaven, in this in- by the generality of the fair sex, and that stance the pestilence is not contagious. they occur but rarely. But by whom will The venomed sting of the slanderer is inno- this be alleged? By those only who are cuous; and his unceasing efforts to poison truly ignorant of the tenderness of woman; the happiness mankind have recoiled upon by those whose minds, grovelling in apathy, himself, in the bitter, bitter disappointment, are destitute of all fine and manly feeling; which has awaited his satanic exertions. and by those who have never witnessed how They who estimate woman at the cheap fervently woman can love-how patiently she can endure-how nobly she can act and an experienced worldling. There was in feel. To such beings, woman is but a toy, Edward's mind, too, a fine and noble feeling which they may be amused with, it is true, of piety and virtue; and, without any bigotbut which they can never love,-which may ry-without one particle of canting sancti

ty-he was, in every possible respect, 2 Christian, and an honest man.

engage their attention for a moment, but which they cannot, as they ought, affectionately and everlastingly cherish. It is Dr. Johnson, I believe, who says, "I cannot of introduction to a widow lady, who resided I had carried with me to college a letter forbear to flatter myself that prudence and about four miles from Oxford, on the road benevolence will always make marriage to Woodstock, and I lost no time in paying happy;" an opinion to the truth of which I my respects to Mrs. Maitland, and in inmost cordially subscribe; for although an troducing to her, at the same time, my old bachelor of sixty-five cannot affect to friend Edward. Mrs. Maitland was the have derived any personal experience in widow of an officer in the army, and had such matters, yet a careful and constant ob- been in her youth a very beautiful woman. servance of mankind has led him to assent, She was still handsome, and her manners most unfashionably, but most unequivoca- were exceedingly elegant. But this was bly, to the great moralist's opinion.

THE NOVELIST.

MARIA MAITLAND.
An English Story.

I HAD the good fortune to be educated at a public school, where I became attached to a youth named Edward Oakley, who was about my own age, and one of the most generous, open-hearted fellows, that ever lived. The eager friendship of boyhood does not very often mature into the more calm and steady attachment of riper years, at least it depends a good deal upon circumstances; for there is not always opportunity for its growth, nor is there always incli

nation :

"For such the change the heart displays, So frail is early friendship's reign; month's brief lapse-perhaps a day'sMay view the heart estranged again."

But it was not thus with Edward Oakley and myself. A congeniality of sentiment, and a predilection for similar pursuits, strengthened an attachment, which became eventually so firm and sincere, that even to this day it has continued unshaken and unchanged. At the usual period, we left school for the University, and it was so arranged, that we both became inmates of the same college; and thus we had an opportunity of pursuing our studies together, and of augmenting that friendship which we both so warmly entertained.

not the principal charm which attracted us so frequently to "the cottage." Mrs. Maitland had a daughter-and such a daughter!

Maria Maitland was about eighteen, and one of the most lovely creatures I ever beheld. To her mother's fascination of manner were added all the winning attractions of youth, and artless, unassuming innocence; and Maria Maitland was indeed a being which mortal eye could not behold unmoved.

"Oh! all unlike a creature form'd of clay,
The blessed angels with delight

Might hail her Sister!" She was bright
And innocent as they!"

With a mind so finely moulded, and a heart
it would have been somewhat strange had
so tenderly susceptible as Edward Oakley's,
he not been smitten and desperately smit-
ten too-by the beauty and attractions of
Maria Maitland. In fact, he had not seen
her twice, before he fell over head and ears
in love with her; and I soon perceived the
change which this overpowering passion had
wrought in him. His whole conversation
was now of Maria and her mother,-of the
exceeding kindness and urbanity of the one,
and of the exceeding beauty and attractions
of the other; and I discovered about his
room divers scraps of paper, on which were
inscribed sundry sage verses.
ing, I remember, I rescued from the flames,
The follow-
the paper on which they were written hav-
ing dropped from the handle of the tea-ket-

tle into the fire:

Too fair for daughter of mankind,
What marvel if thou dost appear,
Beloved! to a poet's eye,
Some Houri come from realms of mind

To grace our lower sphere?

The rose tree forms a pleasant shade,
To shield thee from the burning sun;
But ever, as the zephyrs play'd,
They caught the fragrance, and convey'd

I have said that Edward Oakley was an open-hearted, generous fellow; he was also somewhat of an enthusiast; that is, a very large proportion of sensibility, and a heart powerfully imbued with benevolence, prompted him to regard the world with feelings far too flattering. He could not be induced to believe that self-interest and ambition would lead mankind to practise all the wickedness of pride and hard-hearted hypocrisy. He looked upon nature with the vision of a poet, and not with the eye of his Maria, and as I believe is usual ir

Its sweets to thee alone.

ardently attached to each other, I soon beAs Edward and myself were, by this time, came his confidant in this momentous business, and his whole delight was to talk of

such cases of the utter hopelessness of and I saw them happy. Mrs. Maitland had speeding successfully in his wooing: she taken up her residence with them at the was too beautiful and too good for him, he parsonage, and providence seemed to resaid, and could never, never love so obscure gard, with peculiar care, that blessed abode and humble an individual. But he was mis- of peace and love. I spent most of my time

taken, for Maria did love him, and with all the fervent sincerity of female fondness. Then was my friend happy; and although I almost envied his destiny, I could not withhold a participation in his happiness.

Edward, like myself, was an orphan; but an uncle had kindly taken him under his protection; and when he left college, the same relative procured him a comfortable living, about ten miles from London. Soon

with this enviable pair, for I was an idle man, and was never so happy as when I made one of this blissful circle. Could it be possible for two mortals to be more happy and more blessed?

About two years after the birth of Edward's son, who was named, in compliment to myself, Edward Melville Oakley, my presence was urgently required at some estates which I had in the West Indies, and I

after this the uncle died, and, as his proper- left England for Demerara, with the intenty was entailed, none of it devolved upon tion of speedily returning to my native land. Edward. He had, however, previously pro- A favourable voyage soon bore me to my vided for him with the living, so that he considered himself as settled in life. His first care was consequently to urge Maria to bestow upon him her hand-her heart he had long since won, and the blushing girl consented: the wedding-day was fixed, and a small and select party of very intimate friends were invited upon the occasion. Reader, hast thou ever witnessed the nuptials of a young and loving pair? If so, thou hast witnessed one of the most blessed and delightful sights upon this earth

It is a happiness

That earth exceeds not! not another like it:
The treasures of the deep are not so precious
As are the conceal'd comforts of a man
Lock'd up in woman's love.

This, by the way, is a strange rhapsody for a bachelor to indulge in: but I am not a bachelor by choice. There was a timeand in my idle hours of meditation I never

destination, but circumstances unforeseen, as well as unavoidable, prevented me from returning to England till I had been absent more than seven years. Soon after my arrival abroad, I was suddenly sent for by a near relation, who lived in a distant island, and it was there that I became acquainted with one who was snatched from me in the prime of youth and loveliness, and whose death threw me upon a bed of sickness, where I languished in uncertain safety for many weary weeks. Owing to some blunder of my agent at Demerara, several of my letters were detained there; and upon my return, I found some from Edward, the contents of which surprised and grieved me.

One of the earliest dated bore the tidings of the death of Mrs. Maitland; another detailed the roguery of one of the executors, an attorney, who had contrived, by some ne

fail to let my imagination recur to it-there farious means or other, to embezzle the prowas a time, 1 say, when, with all the buoy-perty which Mrs. Maitland had bequeathed ancy of ardent youth, I loved a being who to Maria; and a third contained the afflict

was as a divinity to me, and whose gentle
heart throbbed in unison with mine, till
death paralyzed its motion. More than
thirty years have passed by since then, and
although the healing hand of time has
somewhat chastened the intensity of my sor-
row, still it has not obliterated from my
memory even the most minute incident con-
nected with the object of my love and ado-
ration; neither has it restored to my heart
the joy which once reigned there.

Oh! never more-oh! never more
This earth again shall smile for me;
I'll listen to the tempest's roar,
Or gaze along the stormy sea:
And from the sunshine I will hide,
But as the moon in silver gleams,
I'll lean me o'er the vessel's side,
And see her in my waking dreams.

Oh, Ida! ever lost, yet dear,

ing intelligence of his utter ruin! A pretended friend, for whom, with all the willing unsuspecting readiness of his nature, he had become security for a very large amount, had fled his country, and my poor friend was compelled to seek that concealment which was so repugnant to his noble mind. But he had no alternative, except a prison; and he therefore secretly quitted the parsonage at -, and, with his beloved wife and two children, sought, amid the confusion of London, a shelter, at least, from his unfeeling creditor.

She

Soon come the day, and come it must,
When I shall seek thy happier sphere,
And leave this perishable dust;
Then grief shall flee ny troubled eyes,
And gloom forsake my troubled heart,
And through the fields of Paradise

We two shall roam, and never part.

It was now that Maria proved herself worthy of all his love. " Maria," he wrote, " is indeed a ministering angel to me. cheers my drooping spirits its with her unshrinking fortitude, and, amidst all our misery, utters no word, and evinces no symptom of despondency. She has just returned from disposing of some screens which she has painted, you know how well she paints, Henry, and the few shillings which

Well; Edward and Maria were married, she has just placed upon the table before me, with one of her sweetest smiles, will suf- head. "And whose pretty boy are you?"