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But the lions are coming!

They roar from their sand: 'Tis Amrou and his SaracensCurse of the land!

Is left to the foot

Of the wolf and the pard.

"But who ride the whirlwind? The drinkers of blood!

" Like the swamp-gender'd hornets, From the summit of Lebanon

They rush on the wing By thousands of thousands,

With death in their sting.

Like vultures, they sweep

O'er Moriah's loved hill, And the corpse-cover'd valleys By Kedron's red rill.

"Where, where sleeps the thunderbolt? Heaven! hear the cries

Of the Ishmaelite slave

To his Prophet of lies.
Hear the howl to his demons,
His frenzy of prayer;
Mix'd with Israel's lament

Of disdain and despair !
"It has come! and the throne
Of the robber has reel'd;
And the turbans are floating
In gore on the field.

I see the proud chiefs

Of the West in their mail;
And my soul loves the standard
They spread to the gale.

" Stay, vision of splendour!
On Jordan's rich marge
They rush to the battle,
Earth shakes with their charge.
Like lightning the blaze

From their panoply springs:
I see the gold helms

And crown'd banners of kings.

"Yet evil still smites thee,

Thou daughter of tears!

No trophy is thine
In the strife of the spears.

The stately Crusader
And Saracen lord,
But give thee the choice

Of the chain or the sword.
"Again all is silence!
The long grass has grown
Where the crossbearer sleeps
In his rich-sculptured stone;
And the land trod by prophet
And chanted by bard,

Rushes the flood. 'Tis the Turcoman ravening For slaughter and spoil: Oh, helpless gazelle!

Thou art now in the toil.

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ETHICAL SONNETS.

1.

THE SPRING AND THE BROOK.

It may be that the Poet is as a Spring,
That, from the deep of being, pulsing forth,
Proffers the hot and thirsty sons of earth
Refreshment unbestow'd by sage or king.
Still is he but an utterance-a lone thing-
Sad-hearted in his very voice of mirth,-
Too often shivering in the thankless dearth
Of those affections he the best can sing.
But thou, O lively Brook! whose fruitful way
Brings with it mirror'd smiles, and green, and flowers-
Child of all scenes, companion of all hours,
Taking the simple cheer of every day,
How little is to thee, thou happy Mind,
That solitary parent Spring behind!

2.

GOOD INTENTIONS.

FAIR thoughts of good, and fantasies as fair!
Why is it your content to dwell confined
In the dark cave of meditative mind,
Nor show your forms and colours otherwhere?
Why taste ye not the beautiful free air
Of life and action? If the wintry wind
Rages sometimes, must noble growth be pined,
And fresh extravagant boughs lopt off with care?
Behold the budding and the flowering flowers,
That die, and in their seed have life anew;
Oh! if the promptings of our better hours
With vegetative virtue sprung and grew,
They would fill up the room of living Time,

And leave the world small space to nourish weeds of crime.

3.

GRAVE TEMPERAMENTS.

To live for present life, and feel no crime-
To see in life a merry-morrice craft,

Where he has done the best who most has laugh'd,
Is Youth's fit heaven, nor thus the less sublime:
But not to all men in their best of prime,

Is given by Nature this miraculous draught
Of inward happiness, which, hourly quaff'd,
Seems to the reveller deep beyond all time.
Therefore encumber not the sad young heart
With exhortations to impossible joy,
And charges of morose and thankless mood;
For there is working in that girl or boy
A power which will and must remain apart-
Only by Love approach'd and understood.

4.

ACTION AND THOUGHT.

THERE is a world where struggle and stern toil
Are all the nurture of the soul of man-
Ordain'd to raise, from life's ungrateful soil,
Pain as he must and pleasure as he can.
Then to that other world of thought from this
Turns the sad soul, all hopeful of repose;
But round in weirdest metamorphosis,
False shapes and true, divine and devilish, close.
Above these two, and resting upon each
A meditative and compassionate eye,
Broodeth the Spirit of God: thence evermore,
On those poor wanderers cast from shore to shore,
Falleth a voice, omnipotent to teach
Them that will hear-" Despair not! it is I."

5.

PRAYER.

In reverence will we speak of those that woo
The ear Divine with clear and ready prayer;
And, while their voices cleave the Sabbath air,
Know their bright thoughts are winging heavenward too.
Yet many a one-" the latchet of whose shoe"
These might not loose-will often only dare
Say some poor words between him and despair-
"Father, forgive! we know not what we do."
For, as Christ pray'd, so echoes our weak heart,
Yearning the ways of God to vindicate;
But worn and wilder'd by the shows of fate,
Of good oppress'd and beautiful defiled,
Dim alien force, that draws or holds apart
From its dear home that wandering spirit-child.

6.

LESSON TO POETS.

TRY not, or murmur not if tried in vain,
In fair rememberable words to set
Each scene or presence of especial gain,
As hoarded gems in precious cabinet.
Simply enjoy the present loveliness ;-
Let it become a portion of your being;
Close your glad gaze, but see it none the less,
No clearer with your eye, than spirit, seeing.
And, when you part at last, turn once again,
Swearing that beauty shall be unforgot:
So in far sorrows it shall ease your pain,
In distant struggles it shall calm your strife,
And in your further and serener life,
Who says that it shall be remember'd not ?

R. M. MILNES.

:

PROPOSED GALLERIES FOR PICTURES AND STATUES AT THE UNIVERSITY

OF OXFORD.

WE rejoice greatly that the University of Oxford will, in the course of the year, probably in the spring, commence building a Picture and a Statue Gallery. We sincerely congratulate the lovers of art and of literature, and indeed we may say all ranks of the community, upon this occasion, persuaded as we are that a deep study of the fine arts will engender a taste which has been long wanted, and which must tend to make every other study more effectual. But be fore we enlarge upon the advantages, let us lay before the public some slight statement of the plan proposed.

After much trouble, the University has succeeded in obtaining, after M. A. Taylor's death, the wreck of Sir R. Taylor's fortune bequeathed to it, subject to the life-interest of M. A. Taylor. This legacy amounts to about £63,000 three per cent consols; and the purposes specified by the donor, who was an architect, are, in the first place, to erect an edifice within the precincts of the University with the proceeds, (i. e. the interest thereof ;) and afterwards, with the same interest, to pay teachers or professors of some European languages. The first object will absorb all the proceeds for some years to come. This is the whole case, as far as Sir R. Taylor's benefaction is concerned, excepting that a purchase has been made for the site of the edifice. But this bequest and purchase is connected with picture and statue galleries in the following manner:- The University have purchased ground spacious enough to embrace an object long entertained, viz. statue and picture galleries, and have advertised for plans embracing both objects. We understand that the plans sent in have been submitted to Sir R. Smirke, that is, five out of the number; set apart by a committee of gentlemen. About the year 1790, a Dr Randolph left £1000, to accumulate in order to aid the University in building a picture-gallery; and this benefaction, which has increased to about L.5000, constitutes the immediate occasion for the additional purchase. The University, we are'glad to hear, hope, from the sources within their control, to add consider

ably to this sum, and to be able to erect galleries which shall not be discreditable to them. It is contemplated, therefore, that the two buildings -that to arise from Sir R. Taylor's bequest, and the gallery-should be combined in external appearance, though totally distinct in their internal arrangement, and supported by distinct funds. It is said that Sir R. Smirke has given the preference to the plan of Mr Cockerell, and that it is in the Italian Palladian style.

As the buildings are not yet commenced, we venture to throw out one or two remarks, which may practically be found useful. That external appearance is of great importance, we would by no means deny; but in galleries that have been erected, the purpose of their erection seems to have been forgotten in attempts to make fine exteriors, which attempts have nevertheless woefully failed. The great object should be unquestionably the entire fitness of the galleries for the exhibition of pictures and statues. We will therefore begin with the picture-gallery, and state its requisites. And here it will be manifest at the first, that as pictures vary in size and character, they must require to be seen at different distances and lights; and that therefore one gallery will not suffice. For however the eye may be gratified by the long range and general display, this of itself may be said to be but one picture, to which it is absurd to sacrifice the rest. We would, if possible, have for every picture of great value and of striking interest, but one room; this may not be very practicable, but still a building may be judiciously erected with this view. One great advantage in single rooms is the capability they afford of adapting the light to the picture, and of even toning it. To those who are only accustomed to see filled galleries or private rooms, the effect of a good picture transferred to a single room, and its peculiar light and position, would be quite magical. A picture probably never looks so well as upon the painter's easel. He has chosen his light, subdues or modifies it to his purpose, and has placed his picture where his eye can best direct his hand. Now, if this be so, it must be that we should study and imitate this art of the painter; we say art, for with him it is an art. We have some old pictures of painters' rooms-of Ostade, we remember, and others, and it is curious to note their management of the light. Artists now attend to the same thing. They do not allow cross and distracting lights; and we believe the old masters painted in very low lights, (we mean not in position, for they were from above,) reduced even by blinds. Their finest works were for churches and chapels, and to be seen in that "dim religious light;" and not only on this account were they painted in such, but because by this management a greater power was acquired, a greater strength in the lights and shades to bring them out; and it will be observable, that the Italian schools particularly are actually more seen in reduced than in strong lights.

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We think there is a great error in the modern views of this matter. The object of making rooms as light as possible, is neither advantageous to pictures, nor agreeable nor conducive to that repose which the eye requires for pleasurable continuance in room. If these observations are just, the management of light, and power of varying it, must be of great importance; and it will likewise follow that an appropriate management can only be perfectly attained, for pictures of the highest value especially, in single rooms. The size and proportions of such rooms will likewise be a subject of much consideration. There is an old practice, likewise to be avoided-the hanging one picture above another; sometimes, indeed, we see them three or four deep, in which case they all suffer. We maintain that no picture is seen to advantage when the spectator is obliged to strain his neck into a most uncomfortable position to look at it: the looking at a picture is, or should be, a continuous action, not like the survey of a building, in which case the eye without fatigue changes, and at a moment receives the impression, and passes on. To place the spectator in an uncomfortable position, is injudicious, and not only indisposes him to that calm and constant survey which the work requires; but by making him uncomfortable in himself, removes from

him much of his capability of receiving pleasure, and therefore his true judgment and relish. And besides this, the eye is subjected to a light to which it is by no means accustomed. When it sees objects upon a level with it, it is under the softening shelter of the brow, the eyelids, and the delicate sieve-like curtain of the eyelashes; and when it is forced to look upwards, especially for a continuance, it receives a shock and a painful sensation which the mind may unreason. ably refer to the object surveyed as the cause. We would therefore lay it down as a general rule, that pictures should be hung rather below than above the eye. It will be said that many fine works are too large so to be treated, and that many have been painted expressly for high positions, even cielings and cupolas. As to the first objection, we would rather have the spectator raised than the picture; as to the latter, it is and has been the great defect, and consequence of degrading art to the merely ornamental, by which pictures became mere accessories, adjuncts, and not the principal objects. Let us take, for example, the large Sebastian del Piombo in the National Gallery. Is it not evident that that picture cannot be justly seen? - the horizontal line of the picture being one, and that of the spectator's eye another. Could that picture be brought down, and the spectator be upon a platform, so that his eye should be on the horizontal line in the picture, we are quite persuaded that the effect would be wonderfully heightened, and the whole picture more immediately taken in, comprehended in one view, than it can possibly be in its present or indeed any other position. And then, as we before observed, could it have a manage and subdued light, so that no raw rays should bodily interpose between the eye and the picture, the grand and solemn awfulness of the picture would be, as it should be, of the miraculous.

In the examination of the architect of the New National Gallery before the Committee of the House of Commons, we remember it was stated what space a picture should be raised above the floor, and what space should terminate it below the cieling. This we considered absurd, and not the result of any rule. As much as may

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