last Supplement. The original
is a drawing by J.M.W. Turner, R.A. and the plate in the _Souvenir_
is by J. Pye--both artists of high excellence in their respective
departments:--

The waters of the Rhine have long maintained their pre-eminence,
as forming one of the mightiest and loveliest among the highways
of Europe.

But among all its united trophies of art and nature, there is not
one more brightly endowed with picturesque beauty, or romantic
association, than the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. When the eye of
our own Childe Harold rested upon its "shattered wall," and when the
pencil of Turner immortalized its season of desolation, it had been
smitten in the pride of its strength by the iron glaive of war: and
its blackened fragments and stupendous ruins had their voice for the
heart of the moralist, as well as their charm for the inspired mind
of genius. But now that military art hath knit those granite ribs
anew,--now that the beautiful eminence rears once more its crested
head, like a sculptured Cybele, with a coronet of towers,--new
feelings, and an altered scale of admiration wait upon its glories.
Once more it uplifts its giant height beside the Rhine, repelling in
Titan majesty the ambition of France; once more, by its united gifts
of natural position and scientific aid, it appears prepared to
vindicate its noble appellation of "the broad stone of honour."

* * * * *

THE MUSICAL SOUVENIR.

This is an elegant little collection of seven songs, a trio, duet, and
glee, set to music, or "as they are appointed to be said or sung." As
we have not our musical types in order, we can only give our readers
a specimen of its literary merits. The first piece is Akenside's
beautiful Invocation to Cheerfulness; this is pleasingly contrasted
with a Song to the Forget-me-not, by Mrs. Opie. Then follow five
pieces from recent volumes of Friendship's Offering and the Amulet.
The three remaining compositions (expressly for the work) are a Song
by T. Bradford, Esq.; a Scotch Song, by Mr. Feist; and the following
pathetic Lines, by the Rev. Thomas Dale:--

Oft as the broad sun dips
Beneath the western sea,
A prayer is on my lips,
Dearest! a prayer for thee.
I know not where thou wand'rest now,
O'er ocean-wave, or mountain brow--
I only know that He,
Who hears the suppliant's prayer,
Where'er thou art, on land or sea,
Alone can shield thee