that he could never bear "the extrusion of Gloster's eyes." Mr. L., in the spirit of the great Behemoth of literary criticism, probably feared to undergo the extrusion of his own eyes. How very unlike, in the cardinal virtue of fortitude, was he to the famous individual whose exploits are recorded in the mellifluous melodies of Mother Goose after the following sublime manner!

"There was a man in our town,

And he was wondrous wise,
He jumped into a bramble-bush,
And scratched out both his eyes.

And when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main
He jumped into a bramble-bush,
And scratched them in again!"

Repugnant as we are to forego so exalted a theme, we must curtail the fair proportions of this sketch, and rapidly dash over the remainder. Would that we could follow the career of our illustrious oculist step by step! Would that we possessed the oratorical pow. ers of that modern Demosthenes, Pickle Emmons Esq., so that we might astonish myriads of freemen by our trumpeting of his fame! Would that we were by nature gifted with the puffing capacities of the whale, so that we might spout him up to the skies! But we must forbear to aggrandize and incontinently journalize. Although

"The soul and body rive not more in parting
Than greatness going off"

66

yet from Boston the occult oculist proceeded to Providence,―on which, being a pious man, he relied too wholly for he was unceremoniously requested to abscond. From thence he proceeded to Philadelphia, but that city of brotherly love showed not even the love of a fifteenth cousin to the Doctor; for while there, he was ejected from his abiding-place to the tune of the Rogue's March, followed by the " Broom-girl" and a stick-a-to movement. He then betook himself to Baltimore, having shaken the dust from his shoes upon Philadelphia; which, however, in consequence of the great abundance of pure water in the streets, was speedily washed away. Next he took himself and his remedies to Washington, where, knowing the prevalence of blindness among the high in office, he anticipated a capital harvest. Here he was doomed to new disappointments; for not only was he compelled to confine his practice to a few insignificant and ungrateful plebeians, but came near being circumscribed into still narrower limits. He was duly arraigned to appear in open court (how different from the courts of Europe,

in which he had flourished!) and accused ("oh, devilish malice!") of mal-practice! How true it is

"The man who makes a character makes foes!"

"Oh, place and greatness, millions of false eyes are stuck upon thee!"

What a spectacle! Think of him who cured all eyes, turned himself into a spectacle! Behold the oculist of majesties a prisoner at a democratic bar! The evidence had closed--the advocates had exhausted all their superlative and superfluous eloquence-the judge had delivered his charge, and the jury had retired! awful moment of suspense! What must have been the emotions of the illustrious individual thus ignominiously arraigned for conferring benefactions on the human race in general and the citizens of Washington in particular.

In the language of one of our most gifted bards

"He hung dingle dangle,

Like a huge tallow-candle,

'Twixt hope (very small) and despair;

And he sighed-here's a flare up,
I'm down, and shall ne'er up-

And with fright, on his wig rose his hair!"

Fortunately for the accused, the organ of alimentiveness-to speak phrenologically-being full in a large portion of the jury, they were starved into a verdict of "not guilty," which was rendered to the surprise of no one so much as the Doctor himself. Puck, who could

"Put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes,'

never started off with greater velocity than did the occult oculist from the American metropolis; he

open

to Charleston, S. C., where he has been vainly endeavouring to the eyes of the nullifiers. He has been last heard from in New Orleans, upon which place, in the beautiful words of Fanny Kemble,

"We rivet our tear-laden eyes!

Prodigious, Dr. Williams! As we contemplate thy sublime qualities mixed up with thy unmerited persecutions, the tear of compassion mingles with the awe which thou inspirest! Held we the pen of Mr. E. Lytton Bulwer, author of the thrice-damned Duchess De La Valière and the Siamese Twins, besides novels without num

ber, we would apostrophise thee through the rest of this Magazine, beginning "Oh thou!" and ending with a slightly improved version of one of Anacreon Moore's songs, thus-

"Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well

As starry eyes to see;

O think what tales 'twould have to tell

Of wandering 'quacks' like thee !"

SUMMER IS COME.

BY T. H. HOWARD.

THE summer is come, with its sunlight and showers,-
The summer is come, with its verdure and flowers;
With its mirth in the valley, its shout on the hill,
With its blossoms, and perfume, by river and rill,
With its wild birds' song, and its wild bees' hum,
With its music and murmurs, the summer is come.

The summer is come, and comes Zephyrus forth,-
And away to their caverns the blasts of the north,
They have ridden the earth with a desolate moan,—
Then huzza for the child of the tropical zone;
From the sea to the mountains all nature was dumb;
But there's life in the valley,-the summer is come.

The summer is come, and the huntsman is out,-
And the streams and the forests have echoed his shout,
And the streams and the forests have echoed his horn,
And his song in the evening,-his rifle at morn;
From the west, and the south, and the east, hear the hum
Of the glorious revel,-the summer is come.

The summer is come, and the maiden looks bright,
With her bosom of rapture,-her glance of delight,
She had sighed for the summer's sweet odours in vain,
Till the green velvet lawn she has trodden again,

And she lifts her soft voice, which the winter made dumb,
In an anthem of praise, that the summer is come.

The summer is come, and the student from books
And his dreams of ambition, has fled to the brooks,
And the light-hearted schoolboy, from Euclid and quills,
For his gambols and shouts, on the meadows and hills;
And his harp, 'midst the green trees, Eolus will strum-
Oh! hurrah for the season,-the summer is come.

The summer is come, with its sunlight and showers,
With its music and murmurs-its verdure and flowers,
With its mirth in the valley, its shout on the hill,
With its blossoms and perfume, by river and rill,
With its wild birds' song, and its wild bees' hum,
Oh the summer,-the glorious summer, is come.

9

SHAKSPEARE AND THE BIBLE.

"l Old, odd ends, stol'n forth of Holy Writ."

Richard III.

MANY of the Plays of Shakspeare bear evidence that his mind was deeply imbued with the language, history, and philosophy contained in the Bible; and some of the most eloquent and affecting of his conceptions, it is believed, may be traced-not as far-fetched-to that great fountain head of nearly all that is found to be truly wise and elevated in the institutions among men; and numerous instances of familiar use of the very words of Holy writ, unequivocally prove his estimation of the force of its language, and how intimate the acquaintance, which could thus interweave its phraseology with the ordinary current of thought. Of the latter, the following examples are given:

Seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life."-Gen. xliv. 30.

"And Abimelech took an axe in his hand and cut down a bough from the trees, and took and laid it on his shoulder; and said unto the people, what ye have seen me do, make haste and do as I have done.

"And all the people likewise cut down every man his bough, and followed Abimelech."-Judges ix. 48.

"And he said, he that dippeth his hand with me in the dish, the same shall betray me."-Matth. xxvi. 23.

"This Judas said, not that he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief and had the bag."—John, xii. 6.

"There where I have garnered up my heart."

"Where I must live or bear no life."
Othello, Act IV. sc. 2.

"What wood is this before us?
"The wood of Birnam.

"Let every soldier hew him down a bough, and bear't before him; thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host.

"It shall be done."

Mach. Act V. sc. 4.

"The fellow that sits next him now, parts-breath with him, and pledges the breath of him in a divided thought, is the readiest man to kill him.

"Who can call him his friend that dips in the same dish?

Timon hath been this lad's father, and kept his credit with his purse.” Tim. of Ath.

"I took by the throat the circumcised dog, and smote him."

Othello, Act V. sc. 2.

"May this pernicious hour stand aye accursed in the calendar."-Macb.

"In the most high and palmy state of Rome, a little e'er the mightier Julius fell, the graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets."

Hamlet, Act I. sc. 1.

"What a piece of work is a man?how noble in reason-how infinite in faculties-in form and moving, how express and admirable. In action, how like angel-in apprehension, how like a God. The beauty of the world-the paragon of animals."-Ham. A. II. s. 2. "We'll die with harness on our backs."-Macb. Act V. sc. 5.

From among a number of impressive subjects transferred by Shakspeare from the Bible into his immortal plays, and therefore the more deservedly immortal-that of the arrest of the Saviour in the Garden of Gethsemane will conclude the present paper. Though this scene, as might be expected, deprived of the associations which crowd upon the mind when contemplating the agonies -"the hour and power of darkness," the glory and triumph of “ the Man of Sorrows" appears, shorn of its splendours and degraded, when made to bear upon the essayed capture of "The Moor of Venice."

66