sense to talk of reverencing our natures as a duty or merit of any kind.' These virtues and labors, we trust, will not be without their proper effect and recompense. The influence of such men as Dr. Channing upon the times in which they live, is none the less important, from their career being one of unobtrusive quiet, and seclusion from the busy world; and future ages, whilst they enjoy the fruits of their genius, will accord to them their full share of merit.

merely to illustrate, by some examples, the unjust and illiberal spirit in which it has been conceived. We believe that nothing less than sectarian or national jealousy, could have produced so angry and unfounded an attack; and that Dr. Channing might have proved far less obnoxious, had he been a highchurchinan, or a Briton-born. Religious prejudices were probably not without their influence in giving birth to this review, though not distinctly observable in any portion of it: but there is evidently much of the old spirit of English criticism infused into its When the conqueror's olive-wreath shall have pages, the hostile feeling long entertained by faded, the splendor of the statesman's fame grown British reviewers against American writers, and dim, and the names of poets and orators have died not yet stifled, the firm persuasion, too strong to away upon men's tongues, then the memory of those, be removed, that no good can come out of Naza- who have spent their lives ably in the cause of Rereth.' Either, then, it has been Dr. Channing's er-ligion and Truth, will still be cherished. The good ror to have belonged to a sect of christians, (of whom which they have done will live after them, and Milton was also one,) not looked upon with much they will be regarded as the noblest benefactors of favor in Great Britain, by the friends of an estab-mankind. lished church; or it has been his misfortune to contest, not with an English rival, but an American fellow-countryman, Washington Irving, the reputation of being the best living writer of English prose. Such, though slight enough, could have been the only motives for an attempt to class him among a certain set of authors, very common at this day, but to whom he bears not the slightest mark or shadow of resemblance. Those who are well acquainted with the writings of this eminent divine, will regard with some surprise a charge of verbiage, obscurity or nonsense, brought against one whose style may be regarded as a model of natural energy, clearness and precision; and look in vain for faults of unsoundness or absurdity in his opinions,

Baltimore, Md.

IMRI:

W. F. F.

OR, THE BRIDE OF A STAR.
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO GEORGE D. PRENTICE, ESQ.
PART I.

The stars in council sate, among the throng-
The pearly-brow'd and richly-dower'd withal-
(For they were dower'd with peace that knew no wrong)
Stood one upon whose heart the darkling pall
Of discontent had lain, until the thrall
Became too great to bear; yet oft he mourn'd
That he could not his former peace recall,
At other times his Eden-home he scorn'd,

always remarkable for the lucid reasoning and good And to rebel, his brother-stars would have suborn'd!

strong sense by which they are supported. Every page of his works will vindicate their author from such charges and we need only refer to an Address on Self-Culture, lately delivered by him as introductory to the Franklin Lectures in Boston, to prove the truth of these remarks. An eloquent writer in speaking of this address, has alluded to the high position which Dr. Channing occupies in this country, and before the world; and we may add, that as Americans, we cannot be too proud of such a man, or jealous enough in guarding his fair fame. His whole life has been sacred to the cause of Religion and Truth; and that cause has found in him an advocate, bringing to the task a splendid genius and unsullied character, and who, even in sickness and infirmity, has still labored with a cheerful confidence and unremitting energy. His efforts of mind have all been directed, in some degree, to the improvement of his fellow-men; and there are few, who, under their influence, have not felt themselves purified and exalted. The most generous philanthropy, the severest virtue, the most lofty enthusiasm, and highest reverence for human nature, are embodied in his works: though sorry are we to say, that in the opinion of the reviewer, 'It is non

Imri the mal-content, stood proudly there
To hear his star-companions speak his doom-
He stood unmoved with haughty brow and air-
No smile was cast to light his eye of gloom-
For pride within his heart had left no room
For peace, the gentle dove, to make her nest-
The olive-branch can find no place to bloom,
No genial warmth, in the repining breast
Whose springs are never stirred save by a cold unrest!
His doom was spoken-"Imri, thou shalt be
Henceforth an exile, and thy light shall fade
And wane in heaven-yon blue and sleeping sea
No more shall give thy image back-thou'st made
A choice within thy heart. When earth's dark shade
Shall gather round thy path, and thou hast learn'd
The utter wretchedness of hopos decayed,
When grief within thy breast shall be inurned,
Then wilt thou sigh for home which thou hast proudly
spurned !

"This eve, when each belov'd blue-girdled star
Shall humbly take its place in yonder sky,-
Thou wilt have fallen, far, to earth, afar!
And while upon us gazes many an eye,
'We miss a star in heaven,' some voice will cry;
They will not deem that there was one so frail
As thou, for vain mortality to sigh.

Lo! earth is there with lustre wan and pale-
We shall look down upon thee, thro' night's azure veil,”

Thou should'st be called an element-for power,
And love, and beauty all to thee belong:
Ah! what can still the human heart like song!
Tho' girdled round by sorrow's darkest shade-
Tho' scathed by passion, or decay'd by wrong!
Like Eden-notes that from the heart ne'er fade,
Swell'd the wild harp-like voice of that Egyptian maid.

The song was simple, yet it told that love
Had made a chosen home within her heart;
Love, such as fills the hearts of those above
And makes of Paradise the sweetest part.
And she had chosen music's magic art

Thro' which to pour her soul.-Oh! I have thought,
Perchance too wildly, that the tones, which start
The warm tears from their fountain, have been caught
In brighter spheres, and hither by fond memory brought.
Clark's Mills Ohio, Dec. 1839.

SPANISH ROMANCE.

EGERIA.

tinually violating and trampling upon its laws, but bands of Moors, either through the love of adventure or gain, would now and then take captive some dark-eyed daughter of the land; and for her immediate release from captivity was pledged many a gallant cavalier. His warm imagination too, linked religion with chivalry; and when in the spirit of knight-errantry he left the baronial halls of his father, it was with the firm belief that the patronsaint of his country was an invisible companion, in the costume of a gentle knight, mounted upon a stately charger, and ever ready to aid him in the tourney or on the battle-field-gallantly attributing his escape from impending peril, and his triumph on the well-fought field, not to his own courage or experience, but to the presence and aid of his guardian-saint. A beautiful superstition, that led the spirit of the devoted cavalier, as does the "manyhued" rainbow the eye, from the clouds and vapors of earth to the pure, bright expanse of heaven, into

loveliness.

When I was somewhat younger than now, I well which it fades, and disappears in undistinguishable remember how earnestly I pored over the pages of Romance. Indeed, from earliest boyhood, my very The difference in their respective faiths having spirit has been mingled with the glorious achieve-been reconciled, or in a great measure forgotten by ments of "knights and barons bold," in the by-gone long intercourse, the Spaniard and the Arabian days of the shield and lance. That fondness grew adopted something of the usages, manners and haup with my youth-has accompanied me through bits of each other, and often met and exchanged life; and, even to this day, warms into a passion chivalric courtesies in times of peace. Some deemthat absorbs and overwhelms almost every other. ing it indispensable to the glory of the country, have OLD SPAIN, especially, appeared to my imagina- represented them as in continual warfare, and with tion as the very land of romance. In fact, that a hostility as deeply-rooted as it was ferocious and beautiful country is rich in her heroes, both of ro- blood-thirsty. So far are these assertions wrong, mance and chivalry. The Visigoths, who over- that it is a historical fact-undisputed by the imparthrew the dominion of the Romans in Spain, inhu- tial of all countries-that in the course of time the man and barbarous though they undoubtedly were, Spaniards ceased to regard their conquerors with still possessed many noble traits of character; and enmity; and, on the contrary, emulated them in the by their influence and example gave an impetus to possession of qualities which it was their own great the chivalric character of the country. But with pride and ambition to possess. The poets of the the Moslem conquest came its brightest days of time gloried alike in celebrating the Moriscos and chivalry-and, throughout their long domination of the European. Thus, their deeds were wrought seven centuries, Spain remained the garden-spot of into the most glittering visions of romance-porpoetry and romance; and to this day she occupies trayed on the magic pages of poetry—and blazoned a proud station among the most refined and intelli- by minstrels in far distant courts. The peninsula gent nations of Europe. Thither, from every por- presented the somewhat remarkable appearance of tion of Christendom, resorted the pale student-the a number of petty states, knit together by all the gay cavalier, the gifted sons of the Muse, and ties of reciprocal friendship and good feeling. The the steel-clad warriors of Britain and the distant north-to taste of the sparkling fountains of Arabian literature-to imbibe the brilliant dreamings of the East, and, in the military schools of Seville, Granada, Toledo, and Cordova, to train themselves in the refined courtesies, gentle usages, and graceful exercises of chivalry.

two people often lived in the same towns-friendships were formed, and often-times warmer affections-social conviviality prevailed-each seemed determined not to be outdone by the other in courtesy, magnanimity and generosity. They often mingled in the graceful exercises of the tournament, at jousts, tilts of the reed, and other favorite exhibitions and public festivals. In some of the sangui

The knight of Spain was a splendid exemplar of chivalry in its palmiest days. Proud-spirited, of nary struggles of the Moors,-and they were many; daring courage, jealous of honor, courteous and humane: there was also in his character a fine blending of romantic heroism and religious enthusiasm. In the days of which I write, he had not only to contend with those of his own land, who were con

for concord and unanimity were never known in their camp, until their last and noblest efforts to retain their power in the land: petty feuds and private grievances were then forgotten, and that brave and unfortunate people, united to a man in the gene

66

ral cause, and sustained it with a courage and daring, that eclipsed even their former brilliant and splendid achievements;-in some of these sanguinary struggles many a Spanish cavalier-as true to the cross as was his heart to his lady-love-would enter their ranks, and wield his good sword as bravely, as though his war-cry was Spain and Christianity!" And in a memorable instance, known to every reader of Spanish history, when the beautiful Sultana of Granada was aceused of dishonor, she appealed to the Christian foe for succor, and the appeal was not in vain; for with the magnanimity of gallant and generous spirits, three valiant warriors of Spain hastened at her call, and victoriously championed the cause of innocence and beauty.

With

I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
The harmony of their tongues, hath unto bondage
Drawn my too diligent eyes.

But you, oh! you;

So perfect-so peerless-are created
Of every creature's best.

Shakspeare.

A gentle knight came pricking o'er the plain.

Spenser.

It is to these golden days that we look for the most pleasing and beautiful pictures of love and devotion. When were maidens more fair or more faithful-when were men more brave or more true? BEAUTY was the rich reward of BRAVERY. the scarf of his lady-bright gracing his polished cuirass, the gallant knight went forth to battle. And whether asserting her loveliness in the tournaOnce upon a time, there was an old Spanish ment-carocoling his plumed steed upon the plain-warrior named Don Rodrigo de Castros, lord of a holding his sleepless vigils by the watch-fires of formidable castle; which, strengthened by art and the camp, or dealing terror and death in distant fortified by nature, had withstood all the open force countries he knew that the prayer of his lady-love and stratagem of the Moors who then invested the had ascended to heaven for his safety, and that her eye would sparkle, and her heart gladden, when on his return, he laid the trophy of his victory at her feet, and she welcomed him as the flower of knightly virtue, and the sovereign of her heart.

land. He was a stark and undaunted warrior, unbounded in daring, and imbued with a love of country, which carried out with a forgetfulness of personal risk and chivalric enthusiasm, had distinguished his name in many a sanguinary war. He Now-a-days, when romance has ceased to wave was an excellent huntsman-a sagacious cavalier; its magic wand over the world—when, bereft of its and when not engaged in the exercises of chivalry, graces, mankind are no longer charmed into cour- or when not careering in the lists of war-which tesy by the sweet influence of woman-when the latter he considered as the noblest occupation of worship of wealth is fast stamping us as a people; mankind-Don Rodrigo would throw open the gates and its low, sordid and degrading pursuit, is quickly of his castle; and with a romantic generosity and gathering upon our national character, like the high-toned hospitality, known only to the feudal mantled pools of a stagnant morass: and when our tables are crowded with works, remarkable only for their sickening portraitures of vice and folly and licentiousness, the reader would find his mind cleansed, and his spirit invigorated, by drinking deeply from the enchanted fountains of old Spanish

romance.

ages, would invite to his feasts and banquets not only his own followers and subjects, but many of those who in the field had strained every nerve for his destruction. Thus, while Don Rodrigo was terrible in battle, he had the satisfaction of hearing his most ruthless and formidable enemies, call him the most courteous and magnanimous of cavaliers.

Following, as I do, in the path opened by the The old warrior had but one heir to his unlimited gifted and inimitable author of the SKETCH-BOOK- fortunes, in the person of his daughter Isabelle, one whose brilliant pen was never more pleasantly en- of the most beautiful damsels of that land renowned gaged, than in recording the achievements of a for the loveliness of its women. According to the Isople, the fire of whose poetry is in our hearts, usages of the time she was seen but seldom, and and the fragments of whose magnificence still principally at the feasts and tournaments given in breathe in the dust before our eyes-I may hope her father's castle. Many a lance had been shivto arrive at some green retreat or shady bower, ered in defence of her charms; and many a youthhitherto unnoticed even by him, who has laid un- ful warrior from distant courts, and not unfrequently der tribute almost every spot in that land, whose from distant lands, made a pilgrimage to her shrine, story could cheer, or animate, or inspire the world. and laid the trophies of his valor at her feet. And now, Mr. White, with this hasty and im- Beauty has in all ages received the admiration perfect preface to the following narrative-mayhap and homage of the proud, the gifted and noble—and

will never cease to awaken the noblest, touch the rich crimson plumes, dancing in the wind, scarcely finest, and thrill the softest chords of the human covered, much less did it conceal her dark golden heart! The fame of the young Isabelle was far hair, which, despite the string of pearls that were and wide. Her name was breathed by the unknown intended to confine it, streamed over her polished adventurer, and the “squire of low degree;" was forehead, and fell beautifully and low upon her first upon the lips of the valiant knight, when in the bosom her countenance at once majestic and genwine-cup, he pledged to beauty the succor of his tle, lovely, and childlike, as that of a girl just arm, and the fealty of his heart and oftentimes, bursting on the wing of seventeen, was well calcuwhen the destinies of war were against him, he lated, even in less chivalrous days, to fire the heart would breathe her name, and urge his dispirited of the beholder, and confute the creed of the Musfollowers to deeds of high emprise, as though the selman; and when beauty was the delight of every strength of Hercules nerved his arm, and the fire age, it is not at all wonderful that her's was the inof Minerva burned in his bosom. spiring theme of a hundred minstrels, and the admiration of half the chivalry of Spain.

Many were the cavaliers who sought the hand of the young maiden in marriage, but hitherto her Our party had not proceeded far, before some of heart had remained untouched. Some months be- the huntsmen roused a fine deer from a neighboring fore the opening of this narrative, Don Rodrigo had thicket, and in an instant, between the shouts of received a letter from his old friend and former men, the cry of dogs, and the winding of huntingcompanion in arms, Don Louis de Mendoza, crav- horns, the whole scene became one of uproar and ing a union between his son Amadour and the beau- confusion. Dispersing his huntsmen in different tiful Isabelle; which union was most desirable, as-directions, Don Rodrigo directed his daughter to if common rumor spake truly—the youthful knight keep along the banks of the stream near by; and, was no novice in arms, and was as brave and vir- putting his horse to full speed, was soon out of tuous, as the maiden was gentle and fair. He was sight. now daily expected at the castle, whither upon no direct promise or refusal, he had been invited; and, to say truth, the Don anticipated more happiness from the visit, than did his fair daughter.

Isabelle rode on as requested for a considerable time-the voices of the huntsmen sounded less and less loud, and at length ceased entirely-when, finding herself in an open space of ground, a favoNow, Don Rodrigo would sometimes ride out, rite resort in her younger days, around two sides of with an attendant train of followers, to hunt in the which the sparkling little stream swept; and, seeneighboring forest. He deeply relished that ex-ing before her, at no great distance, the towers of cellent sport, and numbered among his household her father's castle, she resolved to alight and await some of the keenest huntsmen that ever sounded his return from the chase. She had scarcely carhorn-some of the fleetest steeds that ever struck turf; and some of the noblest hounds that ever roused game from lair. His game-room was covered with innumerable trophies of his skill in the chase; and he prided himself almost as much in them, as he did in the Moorish banners and armor, that hung in his castle halls-trophies of his prowess in battle.

ried her resolution into effect, before her palfrey taking fright precipitately fled. On looking around for the cause of the animal's alarm, she beheld an enormous wild boar displaying its white sharp tusks furiously, as if preparing for instant encounter. As the maiden turned, in an endeavor to escape for refuge to the forest, she missed her footing and fell, and, before she could regain her feet, the ferocious One bright and sunny autumnal morning he animal rushed upon her. At that critical moment, went forth, accompanied by a choice number of his she drew the smail dagger from her girdle, made huntsmen, and the young Isabelle, who was mounted an ineffectual effort to strike the boar, and in all upon a beautiful white palfrey, the gift of a distant probability another moment would have been Isakinsman. The grace of her mien, and the surpass-belle's last upon earth, had there not been a sharp ing beauty of her person, formed a striking con- cry in the glade, and the not unmusical voice of a trast to the rude persons, and the no less rude hound accompanying it. That instant had not dresses of her father's train: every one of whom as they passed her, "bowed lower than his proud steed's neck," and seemed to await a smile from her before they engaged in their towering sport. She was attired in costume befitting her beauty, her rank, and the occasion. She wore a long and It was all the work of an instant, and before Isaflowing riding-dress of royal purple, fitted tightly belle had recovered presence of mind, a strange around her exquisite bust, and secured to her slen-voice that she never remembered to have heard der waist by a girdle, embroidered with gold, from before, inquired whether she had sustained any inwhich could be seen a small dagger of delicate jury. It was a strange voice, but a sweet and workmanship, worn by all maidens of the time of subdued one, like that of "a trumpet with a silver noble rank. Her riding-bonnet, well decked with sound."

passed, before a large noble hound sprung upon the boar-was thrown off-when a javelin, hurled by a strong and vigorous arm, plunged between shoulder and shoulder of the furious animal, and it lay weltering in its blood.