The MrsE ! whate'er the Muse inspires,
My soul the tuneful strain admires....scoTT.
IROX THE COMMERCIAL ADTEKTISER.
STAXZAS.
life hath its sunshine but the ray
Which flashes on its stormy wave,
Is but the beacon of decay
A meteor gleaming o'er the grave.
And though its dawning hour is bright
With fancy's gayest coloring,
Vet ocrits cloud cncumberM night
Dark nun flaps his raven wing.
life hath its flowers and what are they ?
The buds of early love and truth,
Which spring and wither in a day,
The germs of warm, confiding youth :
Alas ! those buds decay and die,
Ere ripened and matured in bloom
Even in an hour, behold them lie
Upon the still and lonely tomb.
Life hath its pang of deepest thrill
Thy sting, relentless memory !
Which wakes not, pierces not, until
The hour of joy hath ceased to be.
Then, when the heart is in its pall,
And cold afilictions gather o'er,
Thy mournful anthem doth recall
Bliss which hath died to bloom no more.
Life hath its blessings but the storm
Sweeps like the desert-wind in wrath,
To sear and blight the loveliest form
Which sports on earth's deceitful path.
Oh ! soon the wild heart-broken wail,
So changed from youth's delightful tone,
Ploats mournfully upon the gale
When all is desolate and lone.
Life hath its hope a matin dream
A cankered flower a setting sun
Which cast a transitory gleam
Upon the even's cloud of dun.
Pass but an hour, the dream hath fled,
The flowers on earth forsaken lie
The sun hath set, whose lustre shed
A light upon the shaded sky.
FLOTIIO.
Variety's tle very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavor.
HISTORICAL.
THE CRUSADES.
Extracts from the History of the Crusades, for
the recovery and possession of the Holy Land.
By Charles'.WUs, London, 1820.
From the Jfissionary.... Continued."
Shortly after this battle the main ar
my recommenced its march, and enter
ed the mountains and deserts of Phry
gia. Innumerable were the hardships
they endured. The soil was dry and
sterile, and Europeans could ill endure
the heat of a Phrygian summer. In
one day 500 people died. Their march
to Antiochetta was effected without
addition to their loss. When they had
refreshed themselves there, Godfrey
sent Baldwin and Tancred to explore
the surrounding country. Among the
rugged mountains of Cilicia, Tancred
was separated from his companion ;
and coming before Tarsus, took pos
session of that city, of which, howev
er, he was soon unjustly deprived, by
the intrigues of the jealous brother of
Godfrey. All Cilicia was overrun
with fire and sword ; whilst Baldwin
stretched forward beyond the Eu
phrates, all the towns opening their
gates to him as he passed along ; and
founded a Christian government at
Edessa, in Mesopotamia, the remains
of which exist at the present day. Pass
ing throuch Lvcaoni. the general force
of the crusaders mean-while advanced
to the capital of Syria. The city of
Antioch was four miles in circumfer
ence, surrounded by a wall of sixty
feet in height ; where there was no
natural defence, a deep ditch encom
passed the city ; the Orontes washed
a part of the western walls ; and op
posite to the snots on the north and
east, where the crusadors encamped,
was a marsh, which had been formed
bv the waters from the adjacent hilK.
On the prospect of an attack, the emir
made every preparation for defence.
The fortifications were repaired, and
furnished with hostile engines, and the
magazines of provisions were replen
ished. The auxiliary and native troops
amounted to 6 or 7000 horse, and from
15 to 20,000 foot. The events of the
siege of Antioch are given by Mr.
Mills, in his most interesting manner,
and we regret that it is not in our pow
er to follow him through all his lucid
details. The city was invested, the
?)lan of attack agreed upon : but the
operations of the Crcises were so un
skilful, that at the end of three months
Antioch stood firm and uninjured.
They had riotedat the commencement,
in unrestrained enjoyment of the corn
md grapes in the delicious valleys that
surround the capital ; to their other
distresses famine was now added, and
made swifter havock than the sword of
he enemy. The camp exhibited thejropeans had purchased the possession
most dreadful appearance; and to such
extremities were thev driven, that ii
s recorded ot the haughty Bohemond,
that "flaying some Turkish prisoners,
he roasted them alive. He then ex
claimed to the astonished bystanders,
hat his appetite would submit to ne
cessity, and that during the famine he
would greedily devour what at other
times would be loathsome and disgust
ing." Under this terrible visitation,
it is not to be wondered at that deser
tion multiplied. The Greek Taticius,
Stephen of Blois, was ot the number;
wary and politic, as his lord Alexius,
under pretence of inducing his impe
rial master to open his granaries for
their relief, he departed with all his
soldiers, never to return ; the like did
William of Melun ; but he was inter
cepted by Tancred, and, after a hu
miliating confession, pardoned, togeth
er with the holy Peter, whose zeal was
in this instance tamed by the basest of
worldrymindedness Meanwhile the
caliph Mosthadi of Egypt sent an em
bassy to the Christians, which, disguis
ing their wretched condition thev re
ceived with boundless magnificence ;
but thev resolutely refused to forego
their project of rescuing the holy Sep
ulchre. To their peaceful proposals
more hostile measures succeeded. All
the Mussulmen princes and emirs ot
Syria, and those of Cxsarea, Aleppo,
and Ems, endeavoured, with 20,000
men, to enter Antioch, assisted by a
sortie from the city J but they were de
feated : 200O of the Turks fell in bat
tle ; their heads were cut off by their
ferocious foes ; some were sent with
savage exultation to the Egyptian le
gates, and others were fixed on stakes
around the camp, or shot into the town,
in return for the perpetual insults and
mockery of the people of Antioch
The storehouses of the Christians were
now replenished by succours from It
aly. Pisa and Genoa, besides provis
ions, generously sent a large body of
men to their assistance. The vessels
arrived at the mouth of the Orontes,
Raymond and Bohemond, with some
regular bands of troops, went to escort
them to the camp ; but, on their return,
they were intercepted by an ambuscade
of the ever vigilant foe. Desperate
was the struggle that succeeded, and
eminent the deeds achieved ; but the
Latins were rendered savage by hope
and hunger : a son of Baghasian, the
emir of Antioch, 12 dependent emirs,
and 2000 men of common rank, attest-
ed by their fall the furious prowess of ; saders returned to the battle with pris
their opponents. Their brutality on tine animation. Fatigue and disability
this occasion surpassed all former ex- vanished : the wearv and the wounded
hibitions ; they dragged the corpses
trom the sepulchres in whicn tney naa
been piously inhumed by their breth- j
ren, and 1500 of them were exposed
on pikes to the weeping Turks. Hu
manity shudders at these horrid out
rages ; and we gladly escape from them
to relate the final event : but wherever
we turn our eyes over the pages be
fore us, similar scenes of cruelty stare
us in the face. Antioch was taken by
stratagem.
The victors were in their turn be
sieged. The emperor of Persia alarm
ed at their success, summoned all his
hosts to scourge the enemies of the
prophet : they pitched their tents a
round the fallen capital ; and a famine,
more terrible even than the former.
again drove them to the extreme of
wretchedness. Their courage was
kept alive by the certainty that Alex
ius himself was on his march to relieve
them, at the head of fresh parties of
European crusaders ; but of this last
hope they were soon deprived. Des
pondency now unnerved some of the
bravest minds ; and if Godfrey, Ray
mond and the Bishop of Puy, had not
displayed heroic firmness, the soldiers
would have been abandoned, and sev
eral of the chiefs would have escaped
by sea to Europe. Their magnanim
ity cheesed the first burst ot popular
despair ; superstition came to their as
sistance, causing their courage to over
leap all obstacles, and the mighty ar
maments of the Persian, which threat
ened them with the heaviest calami t,
to redound to their security and repu
tation. On the 128th of June, 1098, the cel
ebrated battle of Antioch was fought,
which dissipated the myriads of the
Persians and left the Croises free to
conclude the war, by investing the holy
city itself.
Of the millions of fanatics who had
vowed to rescue the sepulchre from
the hands of the infidels, forty thou
sand only encamped before Jerusalem ;
of these reliques 21,500 were soldiers,
20,000 foot and 1,500 cavalry. The
destruction of more than 850,000 Eu-
of Nice, Antioch, and Edessa.
Jerusalem at the time of the cru
sade, comprised the hills of Golgotha,
I3ezetha, Moriah and Acra. The gar
rison consisted of four thousand regu
lar Egyptian troops, commanded by
Istakar, a favorite general of the caliph.
At the first alarm, the peasants crowd
ed to the city with their arms and pro
visions, and the aggregate number in
closed within the walls could not then
be less than 20,000. The valleys and
rocks on the south and the east gave
the city an impregnable appearance,
and the Christians resolved to attack
the more accessible sides of the north
and west. The northern line was oc
cupied by the two Roberts, Tancred,
Godfrey, and his brother Eustace ; and
the line on the west was concluded by
the Provencals ; but their chief, the
politic Raymond, wishing to redeem
his character and gain the reputation
of great sanctity, advanced in the
course of the siege to Mount Sion,
and encamped opposite that part of the
mount where it was supposed the Sa
viour of the world had eaten his last
supper with his disciples. Such was
the impetuous Valor of their first at
tack, that they traversed the barbacan.
reached the city walls and had they
been in possession of military engines.
would certainly have taken the city.
Ihey were at length driven back.
Some Genoese vessels landing at Jaffa,
furnished them with mechanics, and
the wood of Sichon with materials ;
and they soon presented to the besie
ged those terrible towers and rams,
which were destined to scale, or to
shake the sacred city to its deep foun
dations. After a penitential proces
sion round the walls with hymns,
psalms, and cries of 44 Dens id vult"
( . . 1 . rp, . v y. 1
IVIill's animated account of the final
success of the crusaders in the storm
ing of Jerusalem :
" About noon the cause of the west
ern world seemed to totter on the brink
of destruction ; and the most coura
geous thought that Heaven had desert
ed its people. At the moment when
all appeared lost, a knight was seen on
mount Olivet, waving his glittering
shield as a sign to the soldiers that they
should rally and return to the charge.
Godfrey and Eustace cried to the ar
my that St. George was come to their
succour. The lancruishincr spirit of
enthusiasm was revived, and the cru-
were no longer distinguishable from
the vigorous and active ; the princes,
the columns of the armv, led the way,
and their example awoke the most
timid to gallant and noble daring. Nor
were the women to be restrained from
mingling in the fight : they were every
where to be seen, in these moments of
peril and anxiety, supporting and re
lieving their fainting friends. In the
space of an hour the barbacan was bro
ken down, and Godfrey's tower rested
against the inner wall. Changing the
duties of a general for those of a sol
dier, the duke of Lorraine fought with
his bow. " The Lord guided his hand,
and all his arrows pierced the enemy
through and through." Near him
were Eustace and Baldwin, "like two
lions beside another lion.'' At the
hour, when the Saviour of the world
had been crucified, a soldier named
Letoldus of Tournay, leaped upon the
fortifications ; his brother Engelbert
followed, and Godfrey was the third
Christian who stood as a conqueror on
the ramparts of Jerusalem. The glo
rious ensign of the cross streamed from
the walls. Tancred and the two Rob
erts burst open the gate of St Stephen,
and the north and north-west parts of
the city presented many openings.
The news of the success soon reached
the cars of Raymond, but instead of
entering any of the breaches, he ani
mated his troops to emulate the valor
of the French Raymond's tower h. ;l
only been partially repaired, the Pro
vencals mounted the alls by ladders,
and in a short time all Jerusalem was
in possession of the champions of the
cross. The Mussulmans fought for a
while, then fit cl to their temples, and
submitted their necks to slaughter.
Such was the carnage in the mosque of!
j Omar, that the mutilated carcases were
hurried by the torrents of blood into
the court ; dissevered arms and hands
floated into the current that carried
them into contact with bodies to which
they had not belonged. Ten thousand
people were murdered in this sanctua
ry. It was not only the lacerated and
headless trunks which shocked the
sight, but the figures of the victors
themselves, reeking with the blood of
their slaughtered enemies. No place
of refuge remained to the vanquished,
so indiscriminately did the insatiable
fanaticism of the conquerors disregard
alike supplication and resistance. Some
were slain, others were thrown from
the tops of the churches and of the
citadel. On entering the city, the duke
of Lorraine drew his sword and mur
dered the helpless Saracens, in revenge
for the christian blood which had been
spilt by the Moslems, and as a punish
ment to the railleries and outrages to
which they had subjected the pilgrims.
But after having avenged the cause of
Heaven, Godfrey did not neglect other
religious duties. He threw aside his
armour, clothed himself in a linen man
tle, and, with bare head and naked feet
went to the church of the sepulchre.
His piety (unchristian as it may ap
pear to enlightened days) was the piety
of all the soldiers: they laid down
their arms, washed their hands, and
put on habiliments of repentance. In
the spirit of humilit), with contrite
hearts, with tears and groans, they
walked over all those places which the
Saviour had consecrated by his pres
ence. The whole city was influenced
bv one spirit; and 44 the clamour of
thanksgiving was loud enough to have
reached the strrs."
to be continued.
mor the ciiAnusTOX corniEit.
"Who breathes, must suffer, and who thinks,
must mourn,
And he alone is blest who ne'er was bcrn."
These melancholy lines of Prior come
in unison, at one time or another, with
the real sentiment of all human nature ;
of such a portion of it,- that is, as has sen-
sibihtv to suffer, and is exposed to the
manifold injuries of communion with the
world. Pain is infinitely more intense
than pleasure. One bitter moment cur
dles for an immeasurable distance the cur
rent of insipid joy : happiness dazzles the
vision, hut misery seizes the heart. It is
the firivilege of man to weep, and therein
arc we superior to a prize ox or a mule.
It is the business of a child to cry, and,
therefore, we presume, its birth is welco
med by drinking i's health in Frontignac,
and eating it in plumb cake, as if afflic
tion was not its mantle, and ushered it to
the cradle as if affliction was not to be
its shroud, and to deposit it in the tomb.
It does well enough ror society, which
is only a threat scheme of imposition, to
multiply its victims, hy painting in false
colors the allurements of life. When the
feelings of youth are fresh, and the heart
is original, and the imagination burns and
pants for distinction, tell him then of the
reward of talents of the controlling- in
fluence of virtue of the triumph of disin
terestedness of the honors of patriotism.
But send him straitway from the haunts
of men, if you would not dissipate the il
lusion, nor listen to the imprecations of
his ingenuous scorn. For what is society,
after it is known, but a collection of insects,
climbing up a pyramid, all striving to get
at the top, to one of whom it seems to be
gold and to another pleasure and to a
third fame. It seems, indeed, whatever is
desired, and they call it happiness ; and,
in pursuing happiness, which they all say
they are entitled to, thev jostle and under
mine and overreach and supplant and be
tray each other travelling never in a
strait path, but winding circuitously, ac
cording to the bent of their interest ; and
as virtue and intelligence and piety are
the sterling gold of the earth, so men find
it convenient to profess that they have a
quantity of each, there being a word called
Credit,' which, if a man can acquire, he
needs nothing else in this world ; and hav
ing once got it, he may do any thing with
impunity, provided he be rich. It is enough
to be thought virtuous it is enough to be
thought religious but to act with impu
nity, one must be rich. So much for the
rewards and punishments of society so
much for
Glorys wreaths
Around tmhallow'd brows profanely twind.
But the wrongs of society, its train of
evil passion? and propensities. ..its errors...
its calumniesits ingratitude its neg
lect of merit its fciwning adulation of
wealth these are enough to make a mis
anthropist of any man, who is fit to make
any thing.
CERTAINTY OF DEATH.
fhom massillon.
The surprise which you have to fear
is not one of those rare, singular e
vents, which happen to but a few un
happy persons, and which it is more
prudent to disregard than to provide
for. It is not that an instantaneous
sudden death may seize you, that the
thunder of heaven may fall upon you,
that you may be buried under the
ruins of your houses, that a shipwreck
may overwhelm you in the deep ; nor
do I speak of those misfortunes whose
singularity renders them more terrible,
but at the same time less to be appre
hended. It is a familiar event ; there
is not a day but furnishes you with ex
amples of it ; almost all men are sur
prised by death ; all see it approach
when they think it most distant : all
sav to themselves like the fool in the
gospel: " Soulj take thine ease, thoti
hast much goods laid up for many
years.' Thus have died your neigh
bours, your friends, almost all those of
whose death you have been informed ;
all have left you in astonishment at
the suddenness of their departure.
You have sought reasons for it, in the
imprudence of the person while sick,
in the ignorance of physicians, in the
choice of remedies ; but the best and
indeed the onlv reason is; that the dav
of the Lord always comethby surprise.
The earth is like a large field of
battle where you are every dayr engag
ed with the enemy; you have happily
escaped to day, but you have seen ma
ny lose their lives who promised them
selves to escape as you have done.
To-morrow you must again enter the
lists ; who has assured you that for
tune, so fatal to others, will always be
favorable to you alone ? And since you
must perish there at last, are you rea
sonable in building a firm and perma
nent habitation, upon the very spot
which is destined to be your grave? .
Place yourselves in whatever situation
you please, there is not a moment of
time in which death may not come, as
it has to many others in similar situa
tions. There is no action of renown
which may not be terminated by the
eternal darkness of the grave; Herod
was cut off in the midst of the foolish
applauses of his people : No public
day which may not finish your funeral
pomp ; Jezebel was thrown headlong
from the window of her palace, the
very dayr that she had chosen to show
herself with unusual ostentation : No
delicious feast that may not bring death
to you ; Belshazzar lost his life when
seated at a sumptuous banquet : No
sleep which may not be to you the
sleep of death ; Holofernes, in the
midst of his army, a conqueror of
kingdoms and provinces, lost his life
by nn Israelitish woman when asleep
in his tent: No crime which may not
finish your crimes Zimri found an
infamous death in the tents of the
daughters of IMidian : No sickness
which may not terminate your days ;
vou very often see the slightest infirm
ities resist all applications of the heal
ing art, deceive the expectations of the
sick, and suddenly turn to death. In
a word, imagine yourselves in any cir
cumstances of life, wherein you may
ever be placed, and you will hardly be
able to reckon the number of those
who have been surprised by death
when in like circumstances ; and vou
have no warrant that you shall not
meet the same fate. You acknow
ledge this ; you own it to be true ; but
this avowal, so terrible in itself, is on
ly an acknowledgment which custom
demands of you, but which never leads
you to a single precaution to guard
against the danger.
rniVATE nArrixEss.
The rcat end of prudence, is to give cheer
fulness to those hours which splendour cannot
gild, and acclamation cannot exhilarate. Those
soft intervals of unbended amusement, in which
a man shrinks to his natural dimensions, and
throws aside the ornament3 or disguises which
he feels, in privacy, to be useless incumbrances,
and to lose all the effect when tbey become fa
miliar. To he happy at home, is the ultimate re
suit of all ambition; the end to which every en
terprizc and labor tends, and of which every de
sire prompts the prosecution. It is, indeed, at
home that every man must be known by those
who would make a just estimate, either of his
virtue or his felicity; for smiles and embroidery
arc alike occasional, and the mind is often dres
sed for shew in painted honor and fictious be
nevolcnce,