ZARA, OR THE BL ACA DEATH.
Ecosroarters may talk as they will about natural monopolies, and th'e reciprocal action of supply and demand; but, let an "effective demand" take place, and the industry of man will afford a supply. The Spaniards prohibited the use of European goods to their colo- nists, save those they themselves imported : and what results were produced ?—The customhouse officials, who might have lived ill upon their salaries, fared sumptuously, every day by means of per- quisites, and clothed their families in". prohibited commodities. Our Collective Wisdom a shott time since forbade the English people to wear French silks, or, gloves, in order to encourage native industry : and what followed ?—Native industry was encouraged in a way never dreaint of. Respectable-finking ladies and gentle- men took frequent trips to the Continent, and the denounced articles were in every shop. Government levies a duty of 1,200 per cent. on the tobacco of the English labourer and the Irish serf: " Stout, active,, resolute young fellows," as Lieutenant BOWERS has it, take upon themselves the task of mitigating this fiscal rapacity. The laws of Nature are. scarcely more binding than the laws of princes and nobles. Nature has limited the soil and climate that will produce chainpagne, but she has set no bounds to the taste of man ; and more of that " spring-dew of the spirit, the heart's rain," is drunk in England than is grown in France—and, thanks to home manufactures, at a cheaper rate than the growers can sell. The crops of cayenne may fail in both the Indies ; but n'importe, so long as we have capsicums in our gardens and cash in our packets. The anchovy may become more scarce, or it may. change its haunts ; but whilst sprats are to be found in the salt sea, so long will our tables be furnished with sandwiches and sauce. • Should 'the coffee-plant wither, or the Chancellor of the Exchequer impose a tax on its berry as heavy as that upon foreign sugar, the patent roaited will cease to be, and corn, to the great gain of coal-owners and the landed interest, will supply the place of Mocha and Demerara. The ermine and the sable may become extinct; but royalty and beauty shall still be decorated, provided they will pay. Let but the pub- lic show a disposition to purchase, and the contraband 'or the counterfeit will straightway ba produced.
Poems—like statues, pictures, or rich wines—are rated by the scientific amongst natural monopolies. Idle classification !—we have already hinted at its fallacy as regards 'wines. Every dealer in London will undertake to furnish antiquities in any quantity. For some weeks past, we have suspected a sort of growing demand for poetry; and lo! ingenious gentlemen are tendering verse. The author of Naufragus is of this class ; and his Black Death, a Poem of the Sea, is about as rank a counterfeit as one might meet with in a whole season. Yet, so confident is the forger in his own skill, that he would not even be at the pains to procure any thing save the vilest metal on which to work. The story is as flimsy as the execution. The subject is a portion of the adventures of an outward-bound East Indiaman. This vessel has a foolish Captain, " Stanton, the chief Mate," and besides the crew and some soldiers, a variety of passengers, amongst whom are Zara and her mother. Somewhere in the Atlantic, the ship encounters a gale ; and; whilst beating up off the Cape of Good Hope, descries a strange vessel, apparently without guns, or even men. After serving the author to eke out nearly a whole canto in description and conjecture, the stranger throws down a false screen and discovers his guns : the tricolor is hauled down : a flag, " black with border red," is hoisted in its place; and a fight ensues between the Sphynx and the pirate vessel, bight the Death's Head. The crew of each ship simultanecnisly board their adversary ; but Stanton falling, the pirates are supposed to be the victors. Their leader, a sort of corsair, " half soft, and half savage," descends to'the cockpit ; and is so struck by Zara, that
wild surprise, Or some new bane his burning bosom tore, His visage blanched,—h's bosom swelled with sighs, Big drops of perspiration dewed his cheek ; And breathing hard, he tried, in vain, to speak.
The countenance of Hamlet when he first Descries his father's spirit, or of Lear, When gazing, as a lucid moment burst Across his scorched brain, on good Cordelia, Who fondly tended him, though rashly cursed, Were similar in trait (save Hamlet's fear) To Stranger's visage, as he cried wildly- " De Souza—haste! by Heavens! it is she ! "
De Souza—" a tall, swarth man, black-bearded to the nose "- is called, it appears, to bear testimony to the truth of what might otherwise be doubtful—that Captain Duroc has been in the habit of declaring that "a sylph-like form at midnight smiled on him:" but whether the Captain saw visions or saw double, does not appear. In the mean time, whilst the leaders are toying in the cockpit, the men—the prisoners being unsecured and the hatches up —are bouzing on deck: but let the author narrate the catas- trophe.
Thus, screaming, she sunk down, apparently Bereaved of life ; the stranger hurrying bore His senseless burden with an ermtacy Of wild delight, scarce ever seen before, To light his marble brow of melancholy ; But when he gained the deck, fierce fury tore His heaving bosom like a voleanci And blanched his visage white as virgin snow.
He stood, inanimate, as one struck dumb; Amazed, he saw his men carousing o'er A case of Hollands and a cask of rum ; Some brawling, 'mid the bacchanalian roar Of hideous laughter, horrid oaths, and some, Bereaved ef sense, lay down ; and three or four Cried out " A health to Duroc and success! Long life to hint, and to his new mistress !"
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