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BUYADIN AND HIS SONS.

[TRANSLATED FROM THE SERVIAN.]

THUS a maiden blames her eyes of beauty-
Deep, dark eyes, O lose your light for ever!
You, the never-failing, now have failed me,
When the Moslem from the mountain forest
Brought the Haiduks* on to Bosnian Livno,
Buyadin with both his sons, the heroes.

Grand, they say, were all the heroes' garments:
Buyadin, the ancient one, the Haiduk,
Bore, they say, a mighty scarlet mantle,
Such as in Divan the Pasha weareth.
Of the sons of Buyadin, the elder,
Militsch, wore a garment still more glorious.
Of the sons of Buyadin, the younger,
Bulitsch, bore a cap of wondrous beauty;
In the cap were twelve most lovely feathers,
Every feather worth two golden litras."

Meanwhile all the heroes came to Livno.

Servian klephts or robbers.

When they see afar the cursèd Livno, Whence upsoars a tower white and slender, To his sons the senior thus outspeaketh :

"O, my sons, my gray and flashing falcons, See you there the cursed fort of Livno? See you there the tower white and slender? They will smite us there, and rack us sorely; Hand and foot they'll wrench away and shatter; From our brows they'll tear the bleeding eyeballs. Yet, my sons, O gray and noble falcons, Be ye not, like orphans, aspen-hearted; Be like heroes all of soul unshaken. Tell the names of none of our companions, None of all our friends and our concealers, That have kept us from the winds of winter, Yea, and hid our booty in the cellars. Tell not of the fair young tavern-maidens, Who bestowed upon us wine of redness, Wine renowned, which we drank in secret."

When they came before the fort of Livno, Soon the Kadi drave them to a dungeon, Held them there three days all dark and dreary, Till he should take counsel with the Moslem How most cruelly to slay the Servians.

When the third long day had drawn to evening, First he led the father out before him,

Made them cleave his hands and feet asunder.
When they came upon his sunken eyeballs,
Thus the Livno Kadi pressed the hero :-

"Tell me now, O Buyadin, O lover!
Tell me now the names of all thy comrades:
Name thy friends who ever gave thee shelter,
Thy concealers, they that hid thy booty;
Tell me now the fair young tavern-maidens
Who bestowed upon thee wine of redness,
Wine renowned, which ye drank in secret."

Thereupon the gray old hero answered :

"Have I told thee for my feet of swiftness-
Feet that flew in rival course with horses?
Have I told thee for mine arms heroic,
Arms that broke atwain the strongest lances,
Ay, and fearless griped the whetted sabre?
Shall I tell thee for these eyes accursèd—
Eyes that were to me so false and faithless,
Looking downward from the mountain summit,
Looking downward on the spacious highway,
Where toll-gatherers and traders journeyed,
Yea, and never saw the brutal bailiff?"

And the sons died firmly like the father.

ALICE.

I.

THERE sat a lady in an ancient room,
Amid an odorous garden's golden bloom,
The Lady Alice; and her hair was dark
As dusky forest pool

Beneath the branches cool,

Far from the choral gladness of the minstrel lark.

II.

Bright were her eyes with visions. Yet more bright
Streamed through the casements the sweet sunset light,
In which the chamber quaint shone crimson-clear;
While Lady Alice saw

Across the open shaw,

Down to the forest fountains troop the fallow deer.

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"I am the Spirit of Summer, maiden tender,"
He said. "To thee, O lovely one! I render

Homage; for sprites to mortal maidens ever,
When beautiful as thou,

For purest worship bow.

Into this goblet look, and fathom Time's dark river."

V.

Therewith in that blue vase the magic water
Sparkled and leaped. Earth's vision-loving daughter
Gazed, hoping for a happy future there;
Gazed, hoping that the time

Would echo Love's wild rhyme,

And fill with high delight the fragrant summer air.

VI.

What saw she there? The blushful face of him
Who held the sapphire goblet?

Shadows dim

Crossed the fair lymph; and a weird form of eld,
Crowned with a coronet

Of ice and hoarfrost wet,

Pale with an unknown woe, the maiden there beheld.

VII.

"The Spirit of Winter!" cried the youthful shade,
And from the lady's vision did he fade.

Sweet Alice, when the summer came again,

Those dreamy eyes of thine

Saw not the sunset shine,

Nor watched the fallow deer wind slowly down the glen.

MORTIMER COLLINS.

MOUNTAIN MUSINGS.

THE lordly merchant, in his hall,
Recounts his gains with pride;
His bales of spice, his gems of price,
And wharf, and warehouse wide.
He feasteth aye on dainty fare,

He quaffs the blood-red wine;

And yet his lot I envy not,

Nor would I change for mine!
With bosom light, and spirit free,
To wander where I may,

Up to the hills, and couched on heath,
To view the hamlets spread beneath,
And blue lakes, far away.

Oh, lowland marts, and marble domes,
Still craven vassals gave;
But never yet on mountain top

Was born or dwelt a slave.

On mountain peak the prophet first
God's awful mandates bore;

On mountain peak the dove did rest,
That flew the Deluge o'er.

Then ye, whose hearts doth weary beat,
With care or sorrow riven,

Come, climb with me Slieve Callan's brow; And let your thoughts, like Titans, now Ascend from thence to heaven!

The scholar hath a quiet look

Within his cloistered cell:

He poreth o'er some goodly book
Till peals the vesper bell.

But though his life unruffled flows,
Like gentle streams, that glide
All smooth and still through level plains,
With sunshine on their tide,
That student pale I envy not-
Such guise ill suiteth me.

Oh, better far the wave-toss'd lake,
The pine-crown'd crag, the forest brake,
And step o'er heather free!

The trickling rill that cools your lips,
Soft flowing through the glen;
Or else the spring that bursts from rocks,
Like tears from rugged men:

Hath Cyprus wine such flavour sweet,
Or stoup of Malvoisiè?

Preach'd ever abbot, like those hills,
So true a homilie?

Then in their Sabbath solitude,
Go, often meditate;

And when their lesson right is read,
The valley slope then boldly tread,
A wiser man, in heart and head,

To wrestle with your fate!

***

THE PLURALITY OF WORLDS AND SIR DAVID BREWSTER.

WITHIN the last few months a remarkable controversy has arisen on a subject by no means new, but on which, until now, it was supposed that there was scarcely room for a second opinion. Amongst the distinguishing characteristics of this era, indeed, we may remark, not the least significant is the opening up of old questions, and the re-examination of the foundations of theories, on which the massive structure of a world's belief has been gradually built up. This is a necessary consequence of the forward march of scientific knowledge, and the removal, or absence, of those restrictions which so long forbid men to travel, under any plea, out of received opinions into what were assumed to be the dangerous debateable lands of original speculation. One by one we shall have all old beliefs, apart from those of revelation, rigidly overhauled; and while some of them, we are confident, will stand the test, there is as little doubt that others will have to be modified, restricted, or relinquished, as a fuller light shows them to be imperfect, exaggerated, or erroneous.

Long before the day of the French philosopher Fontenelle-in fact, as soon as the telescope had revealed the planets as spherical bodies presenting discs, and the Copernican theory had assigned us our true place in the system of the universe-the poetical idea of a plurality of worlds became a scientific doctrine. That philosopher, by the charms of his eloquent style, advanced it from a scientific theory into a popular belief— first in France, and eventually in Europe; so that, up to last autumn, there were few persons at all accustomed to speculate on such matters who did not subscribe to the general conclusion, that all true analogies pointed in the same direction as the poetry of antiquity and the received interpretation of Holy Writ; that we, the intelligent inhabitants of the earth,

were, in fact, but one small community out of countless others, equally favoured with ourselves, if not more highly gifted and more familiarly visited with the light of the Divine pre

sence.

*

Up to last autumn, we say; for in the month of October last appeared a book, which has given to the question a new aspect, and by its intrinsic merit as well as by its subject, imperatively demanded that the whole question should be reconsidered on fresh grounds. This book bears a title almost identical with Fontenelle's-an infelicitous choice, since its scope is the very reverse of the French philosopher's, namely, to show that there exists no true scientific analogy to warrant the inference that the heavenly bodies are, any of them, the abodes of intelligent life.

As soon as this remarkable anonymous work appeared it attracted general notice, and the reviewers set to work at once upon it, very generally according it the praise its execution seemed to deserve. We held back from design; for we felt certain that the scientific could not surrender a belief it had so long cherished without some one being found to do battle for it. The result has justified our forbearance. A champion has at last entered the lists - no stripling, but that veteran philosopher, the length and brilliancy of whose scientific career have not in this instance led him to claim exemption from a task, which, without disgrace, he might have left in younger and more unpractised hands. Sir David Brewster has undertaken to overthrow the arguments of the Essayist on the "Plurality of Worlds;" and in a volume entitled "More Worlds than One," has certainly done damage to many weak points in the argument of his oppo

nent.

Were we dealing with either of these

"Of the Plurality of Worlds: An Essay." London: John W. Parker and Son, West Strand. 1853.

"More Worlds than One. The Creed of the Philosopher and the Hope of the Christian." By Sir David Brewster, K.H., D.C.L., F.R.S., V.P.R.S., Edinburgh, and Associate of the Institute of France. London: John Murray, Albemarle-street. 1854.

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