On Windermere--what poetry belongs To such a name--deep, pure and beautiful, As its trout-peopled wave!--on Windermere Our skiff pursued its way amid the calm Which fill'd the heart with holiest communings. On Windermere--what scenes entranced the eye That wander'd o'er them! either undefined Or traced upon the outline of the sky. Afar the lovely panorama glow'd, Until the mountains, on whose purple brows The clouds were pillow' d, closed it from our view. The fields were fraught with bloom, on them appear'd The verdant robe that Nature loves to wear, And rocky pathways fringed with bristling pine, O'er which the wall of many a cottage-home Graced with the climbing vine, or beautified With roses bending to each passing breeze, Attracts the eye, and glistens in the sun-- Were interspersed around; while in the vale The streamlet gave a silver gleam, and flow'd Beneath the hill, on whose majestic brow, Dimm'd with the ivy of a thousand years, The rural fane, encircled with its tombs, Displayed its mouldering form. Amid the light And harmony of this enchanting scene, 'Tis sweet to have a temple that recalls The heart from earth's turmoil, and hallows it With hopes that soar beyond the flight of time. Beautiful Lake! most lovely Windermere! Thou mirror to the mountains that enclose Thy shores with zone magnificent;--in storm, Or calm--when summer wantons with thy waves, Or winter clouds thy crystal brow with gloom, Oh! mayst thou still entrance the wanderer's eye, And keep congenial quiet in his soul. Thy fairy haunts, where solitude pervades The feelings like a spirit, might allure Some visionary youth to muse beneath The rocks empurpled with the sunny beam, And blend the music of his harp with thine In gentlest murmurs,--consecrated Lake! G.R.C. * * * * * NEW BOOKS. * * * * * PETER THE GREAT. (_Concluded from page 303._) His attention was forcibly attracted to the magnificent building of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had visited it, and seen the old pensioners, he had some difficulty in believing to be any thing but a royal palace. King William having one day asked him how he liked his hospital for decayed seamen, the Tzar answered, "If I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, and convert St. James's into a hospital." It being term time while the Tzar was in London, he was taken into Westminster Hall; he inquired who all those busy people in black gowns and flowing wigs were, and what they were about? Being answered, "They are lawyers, sir;"--"Lawyers!" said he, with marks of astonishment, "why, I have but _two_ in my whole dominions, and I believe I shall hang one of them the moment I get home."[1] [1] Gentleman's Mag. vol. vii.