and the poet, are those feelings which we have before enumerated as the companions, or rather attendants of Fear.

"Danger, whose limbs of giant mould
What mortal eye can fix'd behold?
Who stalks his round, a hideous form,
Howling amidst the midnight storm,
Or throws him on the ridgy steep
Of some loose-hanging rock to sleep.”

"I see Danger, upon whose gigantic form no one can have the courage to look stedfastly; who howls amid storms in the depth of the night, or lays himself down to sleep on the steep ridge of some loose-hanging rock."

Danger is described the first; for fears are only great in proportion to the danger to which we think ourselves exposed. Danger is represented as gigantic, because fear always magnifies danger: take away fear, and danger shrinks to it's real size. Sailors, and workmen of various descriptions, mount to heights, and work at ease, in situations where persons under the influence of fear could not remain a moment thus fear creates danger, and always increases it.

My little friends will observe of what great consequence it is to them to acquire useful

habits, as by habit we can obtain a degree of strength, both of mind and body, far beyond what is to be met with in uncultivated nature. Who stalks his round.-Who walks a certain

course.

Howling amidst the midnight storm.-Storms at night are always attended with danger and with accidents; the poet ingeniously attributes to Danger the howling noises which are heard on stormy nights. These sounds are really made by the sudden rushing of the wind, and the opposition that it meets with from the objects it encounters: on a wide level plain the wind makes but little noise; high in the air, it would be scarcely perceptible.

Danger is considered as sleeping upon a loose rock on the edge of a precipice, because danger, as a circumstance, exists in such a situation.

"And with him thousand phantoms join'd,
Who prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind."

"And with him I see a number of other spirits, or phantoms, who urge men to commit great crimes."

Here Danger is represented as surrounded with phantoms, imaginary beings, or such as we think we see in dreams.

Iho prompt to deeds accurs'd the mind. Not the mind of Danger, but the minds of men who apprehend danger. The poet quits the personal description of Danger, and gões to the effects produced by it, and by it's at-. tending circumstances, upon the persons under it's influence. Sometimes, when men are in perilous and alarming situations, they think of desperate and criminal actions, in order to remove the objects of their fears.

"And those the fiends, who, near allied,
O'er nature's wrecks and wounds preside."

"And those evil spirits, who, nearly allied to Danger, preside over the great convulsions of nature."

Fiend.-Enemy. It is used as a general term for all those mischievous preternatural. beings which are called evil spirits.

Nature's wrecks and wounds.The effects of earthquakes, storms of thunder and lightning, hurricanes, &c., over which these evil beings are supposed to preside. Poets sometimes allude to the grecian and roman mythology, which attributed to almost every object in nature a guardian spirit, who was called god, demigod, or nymph; and sometimes to the eastern mythology of the genii.

"While Vengeance in the lurid air
Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare;
On whom the ravening brood of Fate,
Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait.
Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see
And not look madly wild, like thee?"

"I see Vengeance lift her blood-stained arm high in air; and I see her followed by those animals of prey which lap the blood that has been shed by Sorrow and Misfortune. Who, O Fear, can look upon a train of such hideous forms, without a wild and frantic countenance, like thine own?"

Lurid.-Gloomy, murky, dismal. This description of Vengeance brings 'before the eye the figure of a woman used to massacre, and regardless of decency, to denote that those who are in pursuit of vengeance forget every other consideration, while they are actuated by that violent passion.

Ravening-means greedy; a metaphor taken from the raven, who tears his prey with fury. It may here be observed how readily metaphorical words become familiar in language. The metaphorical meaning of ravening, or ravenous, is here unnoticed; and it is used by the poet with another metaphor as a proper epithet. The metaphor is taken

from a beast of prey, who laps; the epithet from a bird, who pounces with his beak. Were the idea of the raven present to the mind, the term lapping would be absurd.

"Thou, who such weary lengths hast past,
Where wilt thou rest, mad nymph, at last?
Say, wilt thou shroud in haunted cell,
Where gloomy Rape and Murder dwell?
Or, in some hollowed seat,

'Gainst which the big waves beat, Hear drowning seamen's cries, in tempests brought ?” "When wilt thou rest, mad nymph, after all thy weary and wild excursions? Wilt thou conceal thyself in some cell inhabited by Rape and Murder, and which is visited by the ghosts of the dead? or wilt thou sit within some hollowed rock, against the sides of which the waves of the ocean beat with violence, and where thou mayst hear, mingled with howling blasts of wind, the dying groans of shipwrecked seamen ?"

The poet has described Fear as being out of her. senses; and, after following her hurried steps through a number of scenes of active danger, he asks her, in these lines, where she will rest, and points out the most terrifying places for her retreat, and