in time.
Divorce thee, for a season, from thyself.
The man will gain whate'er the poet lose.

"_Tasso._--One impulse all in vein I should resist,
Which day and night within my bosom stirs.
Life is not life if I must cease to think,
Or, thinking, cease to poetize.
Forbid the silk-worm any more to spin,
Because its own life lies upon the thread.
Still it uncoils the precious golden web,
And ceases not till, dying, it has closed
Its own tomb o'er it. May the good God grant
We, one day, share the fate of that same worm!--
That we, too, in some valley bright with heaven,
Surprised with sudden joy, may spread our wing.

* * * * *

I feel--I feel it well--this highest art
Which should have fed the mind, which to the strong
Adds strength and ever new vitality,--
It is destroying me, it hunts me forth,
Where'er I rove, an exile amongst men."

_Act V. Scene 2._

DAVID THE "TELYNWR;"[20] OR, THE DAUGHTER'S TRIAL.

A TALE OF WALES.

BY JOSEPH DOWNES.

The inhabitants of the white mountain village of K----, in
Cardiganshire, were all retired to rest, it being ten o'clock. No--a
single light twinkled from under eaves of thick and mossy thatch, in one
cottage apart, and neater than the rest, that skirted the steep
_street_, (as the salmon fishers, its chief inhabitants, were pleased to
call it,) being, indeed, the rock, thinly covered with the soil, and
fringed with long grass, but rudely smoothed, where very rugged, by art,
for the transit of a _gamboo_ (cart with small wheels of entire wood) or
sledge. The moonlight slept in unbroken lustre on the houses of one
story, or without any but what the roof slope formed, and several
appearances marked it as a fisher village. A black, oval, pitched
basket, as it appeared, hung against the wall of several of the
cottages, being the _coracle_, or boat for one person, much used on the
larger Welsh rivers, very primitive in form and construction, being
precisely described by Caesar in his account of the ancient Britons.
Dried salmon and other fish also adorned others, pleasingly hinting of
the general honesty and mutual confidence of the humble natives, poor as
they were, for strangers were never thought of; the road, such as it
was, merely mounting up to "the hill" (the lofty desert of sheepwalk) on
one hand, and descending steeply to the river Tivy on the other. A
deaden