ADVERTISEMENT
This Number closes the Third Volume of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. In closing the Second Volume the Publishers referred to the distinguished success which had attended its establishment, as an incentive to further efforts to make it worthy the immense patronage it had received: – they refer with confidence to the Contents of the present Volume, for proof that their promise has been abundantly fulfilled.
The Magazine has reached its present enormous circulation, simply because it gives a greater amount of reading matter, of a higher quality, in better style, and at a cheaper price than any other periodical ever published. Knowing this to be the fact, the Publishers have spared, and will hereafter spare, no labor or expense which will increase the value and interest of the Magazine in all these respects. The outlay upon the present volume has been from five to ten thousand dollars more than that upon either of its predecessors. The best talent of the country has been engaged in writing and illustrating original articles for its pages: – its selections have been made from a wider field and with increased care; its typographical appearance has been rendered still more elegant; and several new departments have been added to its original plan.
The Magazine now contains, regularly:
First. One or more original articles upon some topic of historical or national interest, written by some able and popular writer, and illustrated by from fifteen to thirty wood engravings, executed in the highest style of art.
Second. Copious selections from the current periodical literature of the day, with tales of the most distinguished authors, such as Dickens, Bulwer, Lever, and others – chosen always for their literary merit, popular interest, and general utility.
Third. A Monthly Record of the events of the day, foreign and domestic, prepared with care and with the most perfect freedom from prejudice and partiality of every kind.
Fourth. Critical Notices of the Books of the Day, written with ability, candor, and spirit, and designed to give the public a clear and reliable estimate of the important works constantly issuing from the press.
Fifth. A Monthly Summary of European Intelligence, concerning books, authors, and whatever else has interest and importance for the cultivated reader.
Sixth. An Editor's Table, in which some of the leading topics of the day will be discussed with ability and independence.
Seventh. An Editor's Easy Chair or Drawer, which will be devoted to literary and general gossip, memoranda of the topics talked about in social circles, graphic sketches of the most interesting minor matters of the day, anecdotes of literary men, sentences of interest from papers not worth reprinting at length, and generally an agreeable and entertaining collection of literary miscellany.
The object of the Publishers is to combine the greatest possible Variety and Interest, with the greatest possible Utility. Special care will always be exercised in admitting nothing into the Magazine in the slightest degree offensive to the most sensitive delicacy; and there will be a steady aim to exert a healthy moral and intellectual influence, by the most attractive means.
For the very liberal patronage the Magazine has already received, and especially for the universally flattering commendations of the Press, the Publishers desire to express their cordial thanks, and to renew their assurances, that no effort shall be spared to render the work still more acceptable and useful, and still more worthy of the encouragement it has received.
SUMMER
rom brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd,
Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry hours,
And ever-fanning breezes, on his way;
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
Hence, let me haste into the mid wood shade,
Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large,
And sing the glories of the circling year.
Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat,
By mortal seldom found: may fancy dare,
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptur'd glance
Shot on surrounding heaven, to steal one look
Creative of the poet, every power
Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.
And thou, my youthful muse's early friend,
In whom the human graces all unite;
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart;
Genius and wisdom; the gay social sense,
By decency chastis'd; goodness and wit,
In seldom-meeting harmony combin'd;
Unblemish'd honor, and an active zeal
For Britain's glory, liberty, and man:
O Dodington! attend my rural song,
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line,
And teach me to deserve thy just applause.
With what an awful world-revolving power
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along
The illimitable void! thus to remain,
Amid the flux of many thousand years,
That oft has swept the toiling race of men
And all their labor'd monuments away,
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course,
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day,
And of the Seasons ever stealing round,
Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect Hand
That pois'd, impels, and rules the steady whole.
When now no more the alternate Twins are fir'd,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the night;
And soon, observant of approaching day,
The meek-ey'd morn appears, mother of dews,
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east —
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow,
And, from before the lustre of her face,
White break the clouds away. With quicken'd step,
Brown night retires. Young day pours in apace,
And opens all the lawny prospect wide.
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top,
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn.
Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine;
And from the bladed field the fearful hare
Limps, awkward; while along the forest glade
The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze
At early passenger. Music awakes,
The native voice of undissembled joy,
And thick around the woodland hymns arise.
Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves
His mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells;
And from the crowded fold, in order, drives
His