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And from their temples forth, (for solemn rite
In this dark land was not forgotten quite,)

They rushed, with hot desires, and breathless speed,
To rout and revel, or to darker deed.

A holy horror shook my troubled breast;
My spirit burned :-I told Heaven's dread behest ;
Told, that the cup of wrath divine was filled,—
The day of grace was past,--the sentence sealed ;—
Told that a few brief days alone remained,
Ere all should DIE that those proud walls contained !
I looked :-I thought to see, as once, of old,
When the first peals of heavenly anger rolled,
Ere burst the tempest, and unsparing hurled
To dire destruction an offending world ;-

I thought, as then, hard hearts, bold fronts, to see,
The laugh of fools, the frenzied revelry;

To see, round Death's dark brink, his victims play,
And strew with flowers their smooth descending way;
I deemed my words would meet the listless ear,
The ribald jest, the sarcasm cool, the sneer;
For foul contempt and scorn I stood prepared,
And for the martyr's blow my bosom bared.
I looked again: lo! one of lordly mien
Down from his stately seat to bend is seen!
Foremost in rank his gorgeous trappings show,
As foremost mourner in a nation's woe ;-
'Tis He-'tis Nineveh's great King!-Laid by,
Instant, all robes of regal pageantry,
The blazing crown as refuse, cast away,
And studded symbol of imperial sway;
In sordid weeds of sackcloth veiled his head,
And ashes o'er that sordid covering spread,
With slow advancing step, and abject look,
Upon the naked earth his lowly seat he took.'

p. 13-16.

Many a prize poem has displayed less vigour of thought and skill in versification than these pleasing lines.

The "Gentleman of Stoke" has founded a tender love-tale upon the unpleasing, though favourite subject of Jephthah's mysterious vow. The first line is as unpromising as the theme.

‹ The sons of Zion, fall'n from bad to worse.'

We take to ourselves some credit for getting over this stumblingblock at the threshold. There is merit, however, and feeling in the poem. The Writer has done well not to make an Iphigenia of his Tirzah: she becomes a nun, taking leave of her Azor with the assurance of meeting again beyond the sky."

'Beyond the sky! nor can the trust be vain, That all who love on earth, shall meet again!

Or why, when life is passing-nay, is fled,
Doth friendship turn unchanging to the dead?
Remove this hope, and who of mortal kind,
Can brook the tortures of the vacant mind!
The desolation borrow'd from the past,
When stunn'd affliction's straining eyes are cast
Back o'er each charm and virtue of the lost,
Beloved before, but now endeared the most:
When tender memory, like the evening's light,
Gilds every fault, or hides it from the sight.
Think'st thou that change or toil have power to heal
The deadly wound divided bosoms feel?

These can but cheat the languid course of time,
Till heaven unite them in its happier clime.—
Think'st thou that they who best conceal regret,
Have learn'd the sordid lesson-" to forget?'
Ah, no! howe'er the surface may repose,
Deep, deep beneath, the stream of sorrow flows:
And bears each thought toward that eternity,
Where the dead are-the living hope to be!'

p. 26. David has often been badly treated, but old Sternhold himself never put into the mouth of the son of Jesse such nonsense as,

'Ye cherubim who round the throne
Of God Almighty sing,.

And fan the lightsome air around
With soft responsive wing.'

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Four more lines, from the Fire-spirit's Song', are all that we deem it necessary to give as a specimen of this David'.

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-Spirits

Whose home is the thunder-cloud, from whose red eye
Glance the cloud-rending lightnings that furrow the sky;
Who pillow on fire, yet who body have none,

In essence of fire, self-existing alone.'

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The first question which suggests itself in reference to sacred poetry of the didactic or narrative kind, such as Mr. Robert Montgomery's Messiah,' 'Jonah,' &c. &c., relates to its adaptation to the moral purpose at which it may be supposed the writers have aimed. The choice of a religious subject does not, indeed, imply religious feeling in a poet, more than in a painter or a musical composer. Lord Byron's Hebrew Melodies, Beethoven's Mount of Olives, and West's Christ healing the Sick,' are productions quite on a par in this respect. No one imagines that any thing was thought of by either artist, than scenic, or musical, or poetic effect. If a sublime effect be aimed at, religious ideas must be called in aid, as the only source of true sublimity, and therefore a necessary means of producing the desired impression. Accidentally, that impression may be favour

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able to religion; not so much, however, by any emotion which is produced, (for such emotions are purely those of taste, though they may be mistaken for piety.) as by the ideas they may suggest for reflection. It is only from an author's way of treating a religious subject, that we can infer the higher aim which has dictated his choice of it. We ought, perhaps, in most cases, to allow for the operation of mixed motives. The Author of The 'Messiah,' has evidently sought to make his poem religiously instructive; and for this, he deserves commendation. That it will conduce to this end, we can only fervently hope. In the case of the Author's former productions, no reasonable expectation of this kind could be entertained. His 'Satan' is, for any moral purpose, worthless; and of his first poem, the religious ideas are as crude, indistinct, and inappropriate, as the magniloquent phraseology is sterile of meaning. But in this poem, the Writer has relied upon his theme, has studied it, and, to a considerable extent, been supported by it; and by this production only, if he has learned wisdom, he will wish to be known. The poem with which it may most fairly be compared is Cumberland's " Calvary;" which for the time obtained a measure of popularity, though now forgotten. That it was a failure, the public voice has decided; yet it was a failure which does honour to the memory of the man. Highly, however, as we may respect the intentions of the authors of such poems, and approve of their general tendency, we cannot but consider all attempts of the kind as indicating a deficiency of judgement. Dr. Johnson's often cited remarks upon the unsuitableness of religious subjects to poetry, although unquestionably erroneous in their general application, have much truth as applied to the sacred narrative. The ideas of Christian theology,' he says, ' are too sacred for fiction: a sentiment,' observes a most competent critic, 'more just than the admirers of Milton and Klopstock are willing to admit, without almost plenary indulgence in favour of those great but not infallible authorities.'

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But why too sacred for fiction? Not for any reason that Johnson gives, but chiefly, we think, because the facts of the scripture history, more especially those of the evangelical narrative, appeal not, like every other history, to our sensibility, to our imagination, but to our faith. They demand implicit credit on the ground of the miraculous evidence by which they are attested, and of the inspired character of the witnesses, to whose testimony nothing can be added. Every thing depends upon the certainty of the record. But when fiction is blended with it, the feeling of certainty is weakened. Taken out of the accredited narrative, the facts are disconnected from the evidence; and of whatever poetical embellishments they may be susceptible, they lose in some measure

* Montgomery's Preface to "The Christian Poet,” p. xi.

VOL. VIII.-N.S.

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their authority as truth. Whatever emotions the poet may succeed in wakening, they will not be the genuine emotions of faith. A mere picture is substituted for a record; the mind is diverted by the play of fancy from its solemn convictions; and while released from the stern authority of truth, it loses at the same time the power of deriving from the embellished narrative, the peace and joy of believing.

In a far lower degree, we feel objections against what is termed historical romance, when the facts with which the liberty is taken of adapting them to the imagination, are linked to our personal interests by their political consequences and bearings. Of a great part of history, however, the interest and instruction are much the same as may be derived from a parable or fiction. No one can possibly feel an entire conviction of the accuracy or fidelity of the historian. Our belief is very much guided by the probability of the narrative; and poetic fiction may be made to seem more probable than the historic recital, and not less instructive. Scripture history, it is obvious, differs in these respects from every uninspired narrative: its impression very mainly depends upon the reverence which we entertain towards the sacred writer; a reverence not to be transferred to any poetic commentator. We accept any illustration of the record; but when Fiction attempts to improve upon it, and to array the history in the colours of romance, the feelings of a devout mind resent the sacrilege. In all poems founded upon the sacred narrative, it will uniformly prove, that the most pleasing passages are those which are the most faithful to the simplicity of the original, the least fanciful and the least embellished.

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The Messiah, presented to the imagination, whether on the canvas, or by the crucifix, or in the epic, is what the Messiah was in the eyes of the thousands that gazed upon his personal form, but never beheld the glory of the Only-begotten of the Father that irradiated it to the eye of faith. He is not thus to be seen after the flesh.' Poetry has its office in the sanctuary; but it is not that of the presiding priestess; and when, like Miriam, the fair handmaid of devotion intrudes upon the prophetic function, she only draws down the rebuke of her presumption. 'Poetry,' says Johnson, loses its lustre and power, when it is 'applied to the decoration of something more excellent than it'self.' There is truth in the remark, when, with the critic, we understand by poetry, invention: although it is untrue of verse, which is never so worthily and delightfully employed as in the decoration of truth with all the felicities of melodious language. Religious fiction, indeed, may please, when it is professedly a parable; but the imaginary comment upon real facts rarely displays either the propriety of truth or the grace of invention.

Should it be thought that Paradise Lost can hardly be brought

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under the application of these remarks, so wonderful an exception would only confirm the rule; while the failure of the same master in Paradise Regained, might be explained by the considerations we have adduced; and the transformation undergone by the Poet on touching that theme, might have served, like any of the metamorphoses of fable, to deter all future poets from the trespass. Two of the most popular poems of any length in the language, the Night Thoughts,' and The Task,' are both of a religious character: but, with regard to didactic poetry, even Johnson admits, that he who has the happy power of arguing in verse, will 'not lose it because his subject is sacred.' To succeed in it, however, it is obvious that the poet must, in addition to this power, combined with tuneful skill, be perfectly competent to teach the truths he sings. Cowper, Montgomery, Pollok," believed and therefore spoke"; their lips having been touched with a coal from

the altar.

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The Holy Scriptures comprise at once the purest fountain and the finest model of sacred poetry; but the historical portions are written upon peculiar principles, which exclude alike embellishment or any appeal to the imagination. They address the conscience, the inmost spirit of man, and therefore reject all that would excite the lower feelings of our nature, or detain the attention with subordinate circumstantials. The Evangelists seem, as writers, to be passionless, because they sought not to touch our sympathies, but to produce or to confirm our faith. In describing the Saviour as he appeared, they use none of the colours of poetry or hetoric; they have left no description of his person; they confhe themselves to the most literal recital of what they witnessed. Itis only when they speak of his Divine majesty as the Son of Gol, that their language kindles into ardour and eloquence; teaching us that poetry is the native language of devotion, and that 1 is never so fitly employed, as in celebrating what it cannot describ, in extolling what it cannot elevate, and in expressing the feelings of gratitude and adoration towards the Unseen and Unimaginate and Infinite.

Art. V. A Farrative of a Nine Months' Residence in New Zealand, in 1827: ogether with a Journal of a Residence in Tristan d'Acunha. By Augustus Earle, Draughtsman to H. M. Surveying Ship, "The Beagle". 8vo. pp. 372. London, 1832.

THERE is

thing so remarkable in this narrative, as the intense passio for roving and the singularly eventful life of the Writer. Tohe phrenologist, the cranium of Mr. Augustus Earle would, douless, exhibit a most striking development of the organ of restles ess. Although educated as an artist, a love

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