The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 288, Supplementary Number

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 288, Supplementary Number
Various

Various

The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction / Volume 10, No. 288, Supplementary Number

SPIRIT OF "THE ANNUALS" FOR 1828

Our readers have annually anticipated a high treat from this splendid intellectual banquet, served up by some of the master[1 - We hope this epithet will not be considered ungallant—for, to say the truth, the ladies have contributed the best poetical portion of the feast. This display of female talent has increased in brilliancy year after year: and the Lords should look to it.] spirits of the age.

We doubt whether the comparison is refined enough for the fair authoresses; but our fancy has led us to class their contributions to the present feast as follow:—

Hock—Champagne, (Still and Sparkling.)

L.E.L

Hood

Bucellas

Miss Mitford

Bernard Barton

Lacrymae Christi

Mrs. Hemans

Watts

Delta

Port

Coleridge

Southey

Claret

Montgomery,

with a due proportion of vin ordinaire. This comparison may be pleasant enough as after-dinner chat, but we fear our readers will think it like cooks circulating the Bills of Fare on the morning of Lord Mayor's Day; and lest we should incur their displeasure, we shall proceed with our select course: but we are mere disposers.

THE LITERARY SOUVENIR

In literary talent, as well as in graphic beauty, this elegant volume stands first; and from it we have selected the subject of the above engraving, accompanied by the following

ANCIENT SONG OF VICTORY

BY MRS. HEMANS

Fill high the bowl, with Samian wine,
Our virgins dance beneath the shade.

BYRON

Lo! they come, they come!
Garlands for every shrine!
Strike lyres to greet them home;
Bring roses, pour ye wine!

Swell, swell the Dorian flute
Thro' the blue, triumphal sky!
Let the Cittern's tone salute
The Sons of Victory!

With the offering of bright blood,
They have ransomed earth and tomb,
Vineyard, and field, and flood;—
Lo! they come, they come!

Sing it where olives wave,
And by the glittering sea,
And o'er each hero's grave,—
Sing, sing, the land is free!

Mark ye the flashing oars,
And the spears that light the deep!
How the festal sunshine pours
Where the lords of battle sweep!

Each hath brought back his shield,—
Maid, greet thy lover home!
Mother, from that proud field,
Lo! thy son is come!

Who murmured of the dead?
Hush, boding voice! we know
That many a shining head
Lies in its glory low.

Breathe not those names to-day!
They shall have their praise ere long,
And a power all hearts to sway
In ever-burning song.

But now shed flowers, pour wine,
To hail the conquerors home!