What strange and revolting phraseology, to use the mildest term, is this! How utterly at variance with the language of truly Christian devotion. How unmeet an offering ⚫ On the high day of thanks before the 'Throne of Grace !* The second ode, bearing the same date, is less elaborate, and more pleasing. It consists of an allegorical description of the various methods of festive and honorary commemoration of the deeds of the victors of Waterloo. Among the Miscellaneous Pieces,' there is a very fine ode, beginning― • Who rises on the banks of Seine.' We are tempted however to select, as the most pleasing specimen of what Mr. Wordsworth can achieve, an exquisite composition ' in recollection of the expedition of the French into Russia.' Humanity, delighting to behold A fond reflexion of her own decay, Hath painted Winter like a shrunken, old, And close-wrapt traveller-through the weary day- As though his weakness were disturbed by pain; An undisputed symbol of command, For he it was-dread Winter!-who beset, He smote the blossoms of their warrior youth; Life to consume in manhood's firmest hold; Nor spared the reverend blood that feebly runs,- And sacred home, ah! why should hoary age be bold? Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed, But fleeter far the pinions of the wind, No pitying voice commands a halt- Distracted, spiritless, benumbed and blind, Sing ye, with blossoms crowned, and fruits and flowers, And the dire flapping of his hoary wing! Knit the blithe dance upon the soft green grass; And to the aerial zephyrs as they pass, That old decrepit Winter-He hath slain That Host, which rendered all your bounties vain!'-p. 44. The argument of "The Poet's Pilgrimage to Waterloo," will convey a sufficient idea of the plan and intention of the Author. The first part of this poem describes a journey to the scene of war. The second, is in an allegorical form; it exposes the gross material philosophy which has been the guiding principle of the French politicians, from Mirabeau to Buonaparte; and it states the opinions of those persons who lament the late events, because the hopes which they entertained from the French Revolution, have not been realized; and of those who see only evil, or blind chance, in the course of human events.' The proem to the poem, describes the Author's return to his home, after visiting the field of battle; and the picture of domestic enjoyment it presents, is so interesting, that we shall be excused for the length of our first extract. Once more I see thee, Skiddaw! once again Where like the bulwark of this favoured plain, I come, insatiate of the accustomed sight; Drink in with eye and ear a fresh delight: O joyful hour, when to our longing home The long-expected wheels at length drew nigh! My boy stood, shouting there his father's name, And there, a younger group, his sisters came : The younger twain in wonder lost were they, It had been their delight to hear and tell ; *These lines will convey to the reader no other picture than that f a father's happiness amid his domestic joys, and the fair promise of he future. But they acquire a deeply pathetic interest from the circumstance, that since they were written, that only boy, the pupil and The father, teacher, playmate, was again Which with such ceaseless care had watched his infancy." pp. 1-8. The whole of the poem is written in the same easy and flowing stanza, which well suits the familiar epistolary style of the narrative. Section the first is entitled Flanders. The second describes Brussels as it appeared illuminated for the reception of the Emperor Alexander. Her mile-long avenue with lamps was hung While fiery barges, plying to and fro, Illumin'd, as they mov'd, the liquid glass below.' The Poet contrasts with the gaiety of that festive spectacle, the scene which, only three months before, the city presented, and the sights which still offered themselves in the recesses of the hospital. And now within her walls, insatiate Death, Such as might well to the beholder's eyes Of that great triumph, when the open wound Hour after hour was heard the incessant sound playmate, the pride and joy of his father, has been suddenly removed, darkening for ever the charms of that mountain scenery, and opening from the fairest scenes of nature a vista into eternity. In these lines Mr. Southey was unconsciously preparing a Son's best epitaph, the expression of a father's complacent affection; and in these the memory of that Son shall outlive the record of the monumental stone. Hearts little to the melting mood inclined Grew sick to see their sufferings; and the thought Of those sad days when Belgian ears were taught pp. 43-46. The third section contains a description of the field of battle, topographically minute, such as it appeared three months after the dreadful conflict. The spirit in which the survey was taken, is shewn in the following stanzas. Was it a soothing or a mournful thought Amid this scene of slaughter as we stood, Those leaves which on the autumnal earth were spread, Flowers were in seed whose buds to swell began Throughout the garden, fruits and herbs and flowers The green pp. 74-75. "The Scene of War," is the title of the concluding section of the narrative. It is principally occupied in narrating the sentiments which the Author universally met with among the Belgic peasantry, and in describing the traces of the battle which every where attended his journey. A tribute of grateful admiration, he informs us, was uniformly paid to the conduct of our soldiery; but from every lip he was accosted with the indignant exclamation, 'Wherefore we spared the author of this strife?' Mr. Southey adds in a note, that he Met with many persons who disliked the union with Holland, and who hated the Prussians, but none who spoke in favour or even in palliation of Buonaparte. The manner in which this ferocious beast, as they call him, has been treated, has given a great shock to the moral feelings of mankind. The almost general mode of accounting for it on the Continent, is by a supposition that England purposely let him loose from Elba in order to have a pretext for again attacking |