ly concealed and the first carefully dragged to
light.

The miseries too, sometimes attendant to persons of distinguished
literary attainments, are often held forth as a subject of "warn and
scare" but Cervantes and Camoens would both have been cast into
prison even though unable to read or write, and Savage, though a
mechanic or scrivener, would probably have possessed the same
failings and consequently have fallen into the same, or a greater
degree of poverty and suffering. Alas! how many, in the flower of
youth and strength, perish in the loathsome dungeons of this island,
and, when dead, are refused a decent grave; who, in many instances,
were their histories traced by an able pen would be wept by half the
civilized world.

Although I can boast nothing but an extreme and unquenchable love
for the art to which my humble aspirations are confined, my lyre has
been a solace when every thing else has failed; soothing when
agitated, and when at peace furnishing that exercise and excitement
without which the mind becomes sick, and all her faculties retrograde
when they ought to be advancing. Men, when they feel that nature has
kindled in their bosoms a flame which must incessantly be fed, can
cultivate eloquence and exert it, in aid of the unfortunate before
the judgment seats of their country; or endeavour to "lure to the
skies" such as enter the temples of their god; but woman, alike
subject to trials and vicissitudes and endowed with the same wishes,
(for the observation, "there is no sex to soul," is certainly not
untrue,) condemned, perhaps, to a succession of arduous though minute
duties in which, oftentimes, there is nothing to charm and little to
distract, unless she be allowed the exercise of her pen must fall
into melancholy and despair, and perish, (to use the language of Mad.
de Stael,) "consumed by her own energies."

Thus do we endeavour to excuse any inordinate or extreme attachment
by labouring to show in their highest colours the merits of its
object.

Zophiel may or may not be called entirely a creature of imagination,
as comports with the faith of the reader; he is not, however, endowed
with a single miraculous attribute; for which the general belief of
ages, even among christians, may not be produced as authority.

The stanza in which his story is told though less complicate and
beautiful than the Spencerian, is equally ancient; and favorable to a
pensive melody, is also susceptible of much varie