brow of a gently rising hill,
the summit of which is gained by means of a winding walk cut through a
small shrubbery. In the surrounding prospect, the town of Elsineur, on
the plain beneath, presents itself ill-built, red, and without any
public building, or spire, to vary its sameness. Far to the left of
the city stands the castle of Kronenberg, a bold and fine feature;
the waves of the Cattegut roll at its feet; and are bounded on the
opposite side by the Swedish coast. When the annexed sketch was made,
400 sail of merchants' ships were lying there at anchor, which added
greatly to the interest of the picture. The small village on the
distant shore is Elsenberg. The forest of Kronenberg is indeed proudly
situated; the form of the building, with its spires and minarets, is
nobly picturesque; the fabric is of grey stone; and its innumerable
windows, varied towers, and other architectural ornaments, make it a
striking and beautiful contrast to the dull uniformity of the town.

Sir Robert Ker Porter, in his visit to this sacred spot, collected
a few interesting circumstances at the fountain-head, relating to
Shakspeare's northern hero, from the very source whence our poet must
have drawn the incidents of his tragedy, viz. the "Annals of Denmark,"
written by Saxo Grammaticus in the twelfth century. The work is in
Latin, and in our next number we intend inserting a short abstract of
Hamlet's story. It will be curious to compare the dialogues of the
original with their counterpart in the play.

* * * * *

ON THE APPEARANCE OF AN AURORA BOREALIS, ON THE NIGHT OF THE 25TH OF
SEPTEMBER.

BY A LADY IN HER THIRTEENTH YEAR.

(_For the Mirror_.)

What may this mean? this ruddy blaze of light,
Breaking effulgent through the stilly night;
Darting its blood-red form along the sky,
Glowing with heaven's glorious majesty.
How with its phalaxy of rays unfurl'd,
It comes: its radiance circling all our mother world.
The pharos of the night; where gods might dance.
Heedless of mortals dull, unmeaning trance;
Where spirits in their mysteries might find,
A sail to float upon the yielding wind;
But see, it flies, its shadow; form outspread,
In fainting radiance o'er earth's startled bed,
Yet rests, like the death gleam of beauty's eye,
Or last rich tint of an autumnal sky.
And now in fleecy clouds the heav'ns appear.
Again it darts, dreamer, there's naught to fear