pressions of poetry, from their insignificance of meaning, and of giving animation and interest to thoughts of the most unpretending description.

After three stanzas of picturesque description, the Poet introduces the reply which a stranger might be supposed to give to the inquiry, whether he saw aught in that lone scene,' which could tell of that which late hath been:' and this reply affords occasion for the sagacious remark

'So deem'st thou-so each mortal deems,
Of that which is, from that which seems.'
The following stanza is in a better style:
Far other harvest-home and feast,
Than claims the boor from scythe released,
On these scorch'd fields were known!
Death hover'd o'er the maddening rout,
And, in the thrilling battle-shout,
Sent for the bloody banquet out
A summons of his own.

Through rolling smoke the Demon's eye
Could well each destined guest espy,
Well could his ear in ecstacy

Distinguish every tone

That fill'd the chorus of the fray-
From cannon-roar and trumpet-bray,
From charging squadrons' wild hurra,

From the wild clang that mark'd their way,-
Down to the dying groan,

And the last sob of life's decay

When breath was all but flown.' pp. 16, 17.

But what are we to say to such rhyming as,

and

"Rush on the levell'd gun,'

France and Napoleun.'

Or to such a travestie of the Duke of Wellington's language to his men, as the following?

"Soldiers, stand firm," exclaimed the Chief, "England shall tell the fight.""

If Mr. Scott will not condescend, on such an occasion, to bestow pains on his versification, it is hopeless to expect that he will be reclaimed. To justify the praise we have bestowed on this production, we shall add the following stanzas, the most spirited in the poem, in which the Author thus apostrophizes Napoleon Buonaparte.

'What yet remains?-shall it be thine
To head the reliques of thy line

In one dread effort more?

The Roman lore thy leisure loved,

And thou can'st tell what fortune proved
That Chieftain, who, of yore,
Ambition's dizzy paths essay'd,
And with the gladiator's aid
For empire enterprized--

He stood the cast his rashness play'd,
Left not the victims he had made,
Dug his red grave with his own blade,
And on the field he lost was laid
Abhorr'd-but not despised.

But if revolves thy fainter thought
On safety-howsoever bought,
Then turn thy fearful rein and ride,
Though twice ten thousand men have died
On this eventful day,

To gild the military fame
Which thou, for life, in traffic tame

Wilt barter thus away.

Shall future ages tell this tale

Of inconsistence faint and frail?
And art thou He of Lodi's bridge,
Marengo's field, and Wagram's ridge!
Or is thy soul like mountain-tide,
That, swell'd by winter storm and shower,
Rolls down in turbulence of power
A torrent fierce and wide;
'Reft of these aids, a rill obscure,
Shrinking unnoticed, mean, and poor,
Whose channel shows display'd
The wrecks of its impetuous course,
But not one symptom of the force

By which these wrecks were made!
Spur on thy way!-since now thine ear
Has brook'd thy veterans' wish to hear,
Who, as thy flight they eyed,
Exclaimed, while tears of anguish came,
Wrung forth by pride, and rage, and shame,-
"Oh that he had but died!"

But yet, to sum this hour of ill,
Look, ere thou leav'st the fatal hill,
Back on yon broken ranks-
Upon whose wild confusion gleams
The moon, as on the troubled streams
When rivers break their banks,
And, to the ruin'd peasant's eye,
Objects half seen roll swiftly by,

Down the dread current hurl'd-
So mingle banner, wain, and gun,
Where the tumultuous flight rolls on

Of warriors, who, when morn begun,

Defied a banded world.' pp. 27-30.
Then safely come-in one so low,—
So lost, we cannot own a foe;
Though dear experience bid us end,
In thee we ne'er can hail a friend.-
Come, howsoe'er-but do not hide
Close in thy heart that germ of pride,
Erewhile by gifted bard espied,

"

That yet imperial hope;"

Think not that for a fresh rebound,
To raise ambition from the ground,
We yield thee means or scope.
In safety come- but ne'er again
Hold type of independent reign;
No islet calls thee lord,

We leave thee no confederate band,
No symbol of thy lost command,
To be a dagger in the hand

From which we wrench'd the sword.' pp. 32, 33.

The poem concludes with the following lines.

Farewell, sad Field! whose blighted face
Wears desolation's withering trace;

Long shall my memory retain

Thy shatter d huts and trampled grain,
With every mark of martial wrong,
That scathe thy towers, fair Hougomont!
Yet though thy garden's green arcade,
The marksmans fatal post was made,
Though on thy shatter'd beeches fell
The blended rage of shot and shell,
Though from thy blacken'd portals torn,
Their fall thy blighted fruit trees mourn,
Has not such havock bought a name
Immortal in the rolls of fame?
Yes Agincourt may be forgot,
And Cressy be an unknown spot,

And Blenheim's name be new;

But still in story and in song,
For many an age remember'd long,

Shall live the towers of Hougomont,

And fields of Waterloo." pp. 40, 41.

From the "Ode by Elizabeth Cobbold," we select the following stanzas: they are considerably above mediocrity.

'But O what song the praise can tell,
Of those who, self devoted, fell,
When ev'ry gallant leader fought
As if that glorious day he sought
To win as bright a wreath from fame
As circles Wellington's immortal name ?

Each persevering soldier too,
A leader in that battle grew,

And felt as resolute in fight,
As firm, in British hardihood,
As though upon his single might
His country's bulwark stood.

A wall of life the serried square appears,
In mute and horrible array

Of motionless protruded spears :

The fierce steed trembles to essay
The fatal charge, and starting back,
Regardless of the spur or rein,
Shrinks, snorting, from the vain attack;
Urg'd on again to brave the shock,
His madd'ning cries the effort mock,
And wildly o'er the plain,
Spurning control, the chargers fly,
With shiver'd bit and bursting girth;
Till sweeps the thundering grape-shot by,
And hurls, in dread fraternity,

Th' unbroken ranks to earth!

Ev'n as they stood in death they lay
The glazing eye, the livid brow,
Still frown'd defiance on the foe;

Each breast high swoll'n still seem'd to feel,

Each stiffen'd hand still grasp'd the steel,

In that same mute and horrible array.' pp. 11, 12.

The profits of the sale of both these poems are to be appropriated to the Waterloo Subscription.

Art. V. The First Report of a Society for preventing Accidents in Coal Mines comprising a Letter to Sir Ralph Milbanke, Bart. on the Various Modes employed in the Ventilation of Collieries. Illustrated by Plans and Sections. By John Buddle. Newcastle. 1814. 8vo. pp. 28. pp. 10.

WHEN the comforts or the luxuries which we cannot, or

will not relinquish, are procured by such exertions of our fellow-creatures, as condemn them to privations that render the portion of their existence thus employed, perilous and miserable, humanity requires that we should devote at least a thought to render their scanty seasons of rest refreshing, their sabbaths tranquil, and their declining age devoid of cares. But when the support of our very existence demands the sacrifice of all that seems desirable in life, during the periods of labour of those who are engaged in supplying its necessities, though the labourer may be satisfied with the stipulated pecuniary remuneration, humanity imperiously claims in his behalf every exertion within our power, to protect him from danger, and, where una

voidable sufferings are so numerous, to remove those which are casual.

The condition of the Collier, who voluntarily submits to a seclusion from the light of the sun, and from the breath of heaven, in damp and narrow galleries, which confine his naked body to an unnatural and painful posture, there to toil for the scanty pittance that supports his own existence and procures the few comforts of his family; exhibits man in a condition sufficiently degraded to claim the hand of the brother who stands on higher ground, to raise and comfort him. But when we recollect, that an instantaneous subsidence of the impending mass of rock between him and the day, may immure him in an inaccessible tomb, to pine in hopeless anguish ;-that a current of air incapable of supporting respiration, may insensibly extinguish life, or immerse him in a torrent of flame, driving his shattered limbs before it ;when we learn that these accidents not only may, but do repeatedly occur, and that, annually, families consisting together of some hundreds of individuals, are thus deprived of their maintenance :—we not only feel desirous to lend assistance as far as our power extends, but are impelled by duty to call to those who are more able than ourselves, to hasten to afford alleviation and protection. These considerations, rather than the duty of noticing the literary merit of a respectable pamphlet, impose upon us the obligation of drawing the attention of our readers to the paper before us.

The most dreadful calamities that take place in collieries, are owing to the discharge of inflammable gas from crevices in the pit. They are particularly common in the mines of Newcastle, though of rare occurrence in the Yorkshire, Somersetshire, and South Wales coal districts, and have long exercised the ingenuity of those who have been interested either by humane or by pecuniary motives. Two modes of obviating the danger, naturally occur to the mind :—the first, is that of preventing the gas from being disengaged, or of so neutralizing it by chemical agents, as to prevent its admixture with atmospheric air in pernicious proportions; the other, that of removing it when disengaged, without the risk of its being ignited. The first of these modes, is a problem, the solution of which can be expected of the scientific only, and the Society regret being unable to hold out such encouragement, as may be able to stimulate their attention to the subject. We must, however, confess, that we should feel infinitely greater regret, did we think that the funds of a Society could afford a stronger inducement to exertion, than the dictates of humanity.

Mr. Buddle does not touch upon this part of the subject, but details the methods employed in clearing the coal works of inflammable gas. These are--simple ventilation, by means of a