ence or literature is announced for disquisition or criticism, we naturally look for something 'new' on the occasion; and conclude, that if nothing but what has been a thousand times repeated, can be advanced in a new call upon our patience and our pockets, expectation might have been spared the unpleasantness of disappointment. All that is valuable in this pamphlet is old; and England would have sustained no great loss, if all that is new in its forty-eight pages had remained in its transatlantic birth-place. But, how much soever the people of America may need information respecting Milton's great poetical reputation, it is known and appreciated here; and the materials from which a just estimation of his private character is to be obtained, have been long since exhausted. Thus, then, the bulk of the pamphlet before us is, to say the least of it, unnecessary.

any prejudices which might be entertained on this subject, informs us, that he is "not sure he could have abstained from this subject, even if he had not been able to offer so good an apology for attempting it." We are not sure that this mends the matter much.

The names of Milton, Locke, and Newton, (who all, be it remembered, owe their fame, not to theology,) Dr. C. proposes to set against all the "stars of orthodoxy:" these three "intellectual suns" are to make them all 'hide their diminished heads.' How was the poor doctor wandering when he penned this fustian! If his three worthies (whom in their own sphere we hold as high as any) had depended on their theology for their fame, where had they been now? Take away their poetry, philosophy, &c. and how would their heads be diminished! How would poor Sir Isaac stare, to hear his panegyrist talking of three suns in one system!

For the vindication of poetry in the abstract, which the author has If the treatise be truly Milton's, taken occasion to introduce, the Ame- (for it has been disputed as genuine, ricans will bardly thank him, seeing although our author takes no notice it most assuredly implies a depre- of that circumstance,) his anti-trinitaciated estimation of its nature amongst rianism is very dissimilar to that of them. For our parts, we do not per- Dr. C. and most Unitarians. Origiceive the propriety of a missionary nal sin, redemption, and the persopamphlet's pretending to teach what nality of the Holy Spirit, find place poetry is in Milton's birth-place; it and proofs in the volume. In refelooks something like shipping us home rence to this last doctrine, we cannot our own wares as foreign manufac- but remark the coolness with which the ture, or, according to the more homely pamphleteer observes, "It is strange adage, I carrying coals to New-that Milton (after certain concessions castle." relative to the Old Testament) could have found a difficulty in giving a figurative intepretation to the few passages in the New Testament which speak of the Holy Spirit as a person."

66

In his twenty-ninth page, the author begins to notice the theological views elicited in the treatise. He thinks that "all his readers are probably aware that Milton has here declared-page 33. himself an Anti-Trinitarian." The Mark the honesty of this author. doctor is "probably" correet; but he seems to have forgotten that Milton's exaltation as a theologian on this account will not be readily subscribed to by those who may happen to think that old opinions do not always imply taken for granted, or new ones either research or profundity.

Conscious that such a high eulogium upon the poet's controversial powers, deferred to the time of the discovery of opinions which Milton was not suspected to have entertained, and which the doctor is so pleased with, comes with a very suspicious appearance; our author, to remove

94.-VOL. VIII.

66

After having asserted that Milton came to his conclusions “after a life of extensive and profound research," (p.4.) and that his "theological opinions were the fruits of a patient, profound, and reverent study of the scriptures," (page 33.)-after this he says, His views (of the doctrines of original sin and redemption) seem to have been formed without much investigation;" adding, "On these great subjects of human nature and redemption, we confess, we are disappointed in finding the spirit of Milton satisfying itself with the degrading notions that prevailed around him."-page 40.

3 P

66

"As if religion were intended

He

Dr. C.'s confession here is of a piece | the assertion, that it is corrupt; and with some other parts of his work, we were foolish enough to think that where he expresses sorrow and sur- the professors of reformation would prise that Milton did not discard all be content with what they call restorthe prevalent doctrines of the age. ing it: but no; this divine revelation "We only regret," says he, towards by the Son of God must be improved the conclusion, "that Milton did not by the "new lights" of the human draw more from the deep and full mind; our advance in the sciences fountains of his own soul;" as if he will still discover to us novelties in wished him to invent opinions, rather this, and thus keep up our interest in than to decide upon the meaning of it; for otherwise, our author intimates, the "written word." Indeed, Dr. C. we should flag in that particular! He does not attempt to conceal his own argues exactly vehement desire after some new thing. "We want new light," he exclaims, For nothing else but to be mended." "we care not whence it comes, and we His observations upon Dr. Johnson should rejoice in such a manifestation ought not to pass unnoticed. of Christianity as would throw all roundly asserts, (page 27,)_that in present systems into obscurity!" We reference to Milton," Dr. Johnson should not be astonished, after this, has failed in the highest end of bioto hear of a new sect, called Chan-graphy, which is, to give immortality ningites, in that prolific land of sects to virtue, and to call forth fervent adto which the doctor belongs: nay, miration towards those who have shed perhaps the new sentiments are splendour on past ages." According already in embryo! to Dr. C.'s meaning, then, the biograIf Dr. C.'s are to be taken as speci-phy of a person should be his eulomens of Unitarian principles, these have gained no attractions from his exhibition of them. He seems to consider Christianity as a human discovery, which, like all others, is capable of ever-progressive improvement. He talks of the present improved state of theology," (we know others have spoken so before him,) of "the infancy of Christianity, not in respect of its age and spread, but" in regard to its nature; and remarks, "The primitive church did not and could not understand all that was involved in its principles, all the application of which they are susceptible, all the influences they were to exert on the human mind, all the combinations they were to form with the new truths which time was to unfold," (p. 38.)-Again, "We wish only to teach, that antiquity was the infancy of our race, and that its acquisitions, instead of being rested in, are to bear us onward to new heights of truth and virtue."(page 48.)

Were it not that the same sentiments occur in other places, we should have been tempted to imagine, that the doctor, being in the habit of writing upon scientific subjects, has allowed by inadvertency a stray paper of that description to be incorporated in his pamphlet. We had supposed that the worst people could say of our present Christianity, consisted in

gium, without any regard to his failings. If this be not his meaning, the only alternative is, that pure virtue and splendour-shedding talent are the only proper subjects of "high" biography. This is undoubtedly a new light of the author's; for it has been pretty generally understood that biography should be a faithful detail of facts, holding up to praise and imitation all that is worthy; and, by wholesome caution, warning us against the failings which truth, however willing, must not conceal. The benefit of posterity is the biographer's "highest" and only object, and his own judgment must cause him to dwell most upon either the faults or excellences of the subject, as it shall be deemed most conducive to that end. The same remarks will apply to criticism on an author's works. And though it is observable that Johnson was not an enthusiast in Milton's praise, we would suggest to Dr. C., that the scales of enthusiasm never yet have shewn the even beam of the balance of justice.

To conclude; nothing is more certain, on the perusal of this pamphlet, than that Milton with our author is all that is high in intellect and overwhelming in authority, so long as he is on " his side;" but the moment he begins to differ in the least, the doctor unplumes him, and makes him “weak

as another man." Before we lay down
this pamphlet, it would be unjust not
to remark, that the author's style is
strong and figurative, though occa-
sionally touched with bombast. One
good passage we select, in the hope
it may have its intended influence :-
"We have enlarged on the strictness
and loftiness of Milton's virtue, not
only from our interest in the subject,
but that we may put to shame and
silence those men who make genius
an apology for vice, and take the
sacred fire, kindled by God within
them, to inflame men's passions, and
to minister to a vile sensuality."
(page 24.)

REVIEW.-Field Flowers; being a collection of fugitive and other Poems: by the Author of " Odes," "Portland Isle," &c. pp. 182. London. Lupton Relfe. 1826.

"So smiles the sunbeam on the snow, Brilliant-but cold the while." p. 65. We shall content ourselves with one extract, which is a

SCENE IN ARCADIA,

FROM A PICTURE BY CLAUDE, IN THE
NATIONAL GALLERY.

IT was a scene of beauty,-summer sun
Ne'er lighted lovelier landscape; the blue sky
Lay mirror'd in the bluer lake, upon
Whose glassy surface gently glided forwards
A fisherman's small boat, in truth, so gently,
Gainst whom its master warr'd. Reclined at

That it scared not the tenants of the flood,

In bountiful profusion. Over head
To colder climes, but which Arcadia gives
The wild vine form'd a bower, while the ripe
grapes,

In purple beauty, shew'd like amethysts
In infancy to read of 'mid the bright
'Mid leaves of emerald, such as we were wont
And vision'd glories of Arabian tale.
Midway, athwart the lake, a waterfall
Was seen in sparkling splendour, while its

sweet

And rippling music broke upon the ear
In cooling freshness, as the night-breeze breaks
Upon the fever'd cheek. A cataract,
At distance faintly heard, and the wild rush
Of waters from a mill that stood hard by
A ruin'd temple, picturesquely grouped,
Uprose, Nature's own boundary, dark blue
Were all in perfect unison. Beyond,

AMIDST the innumerable volumes of "collections of fugitive poetry" at present issuing from the press, that which is now under review may, we think, take its stand on the pedestal of mediocrity. Of course, its circulation and popularity will be very circumscribed, for this reason, if for no other-that there is no one poem of any considerable magnitude, or eminent merit, which the eye of the public may distinguish, and rest upon. Volumes like the present, containing merely a series of small poems, and none of these characterized by any particular power, brilliancy, or beauty -may be compared to the undula-As if to shut out from the world a scene tions of the ocean. Let the waves So lovely, though so lonely. follow each other with never so great E'en o'er such calm serenity a cloud regularity and precision, yet they soon Of wo will sometimes lowr; 'tis when a horde tire the eye by their uniformity: but of mountain bandits, for a season, quit a towering rock commands attention, Their rocky glens, and o'er the valley sweep and diversifies the scenery. We would In search of plunder. But, alas! what stream, recommend these considerations to However fair and beautiful it be, all our youthful aspirants after poeti- Is lost in the broad ocean, some rude rock Meets not, or ere its tributary tide cal fame. To mar its glassy surface! p. 70 to 72.

It can hardly be expected that the ponderous engine of grave criticism will be brought to bear on such a volume as the present; and we shall therefore content ourselves with remarking, that in general it displays marks of an elegant and cultivated mind, considerably conversant with classical literature. There is never displayed any power in the volume before us; yet we frequently encoun ter very brilliant images, such as

hills,

Yet, methinks,

REVIEW.-Worcester Field; or, The

Cavalier. A Poem, in Four Cantos, with Historical Notes. By Agnes Strickland. pp. 163. London. Longman & Co.

THE chronicles of England afford a rich harvest to the poet, and a harvest which is yet ungleaned. With the exception of one or two great poets,

who have thereby reaped a harvest of glory, who has ventured to thrust in his sickle? The fiery pen of Shakspeare has been partially employed on this subject, but he exhausted nothing that he touched: he trod a bold and venturous path, gathering only here and there, as suited him; and how very few of our poets since, have thought it worth their while, or within the scope of their abilities, to follow in his track! Shall we cross the Atlantic, and tread the arid sands of Africa and Egypt, in search for a theme which might employ the genius of poetry-and Hastings, Shrewsbury, Flodden Field, with many others, yet unsung? However, we rejoice that the fair authoress of the volume under review has boldly entered into the scenes of ensanguined Christendom, afforded by the blood and buffetings of our glorious ancestors; and though

such scenes

"Might ill befit a lady's pen,

To trace their bloody track;" though she might have sought for a gentler subject, within the flowery round of sentiment; yet we must say that she has performed her task with considerable credit. Not that there is any of the bold and masculine spirit of Joanna Baillie, the rich imagination of Mrs. Hemans, or the delicacy of Miss Loudon, to be discovered animating her pages; yet there is occasionally manifested no mean power in the description of character and scenery. Still we must say, that, as a whole, the poem is rather languid: there is no where to be met with, that intense and soul-subduing excitement, which one would think such a scene ás Worcester Field could not fail to

call forth. War, blood, and carnage; are not a lady's element! Cromwell and his iron-clad desperadoes are unfit and ungentle companions for a lady of Agnes Strickland's delicacy and sensibility of mind. Let her seek a subject more congenial to her taste and qualifications, and we shall rejoice to acknowledge her merit and success. As the best specimen which we could find, we have extracted the following

passage:

"Then shone in CLARA's lifted eye
The light of speechless ecstasy;
And softly fell the radiant tear,
As morning dew-drops pure and clear!
The early beams of rising day

On CLARA's lovely features play; ·

Lowly, and humbly kneeling there,
She paid to heaven her silent prayer;
Her lips no cold petitions raise,
But her full soul o'erflows with praise.
Her raven locks, só darkly briglit,
Wav'd in the gray and yellow light,
And floating o'er her neck of snow,
In clust'ring curls they loosely flow;
And who bad then the maiden seen,
And mark'd her rapt, angelic mien,
Had deem'd a seraph from above
Pleaded for man with matchless love.-
Young WILLIAM, in desponding mood,
Wildly and sadly gazing stood,
Vacant and lost to all around,
As if a spell each sense had bound:
And one sole object shone on him,
While all beside was dark and dim ;
And in that raptur'd glance was given
A glimpse of all he hoped in heaven.
But soon that vision of delight
Grew painful to his dazzled sight:
The transient dream of joy was o'er,
And he might gaze and muse no more.'
p. 66, 67.

REVIEW.-The Spirit and Manners of
the Age. Vol. I. 8vo. pp. 412. Lon-
don. Westley & Davis. 1826.
THIS work is founded upon the prin-
the volumes of which we have re-
ciples of the "Evangelical Rambler,"
viewed in our preceding numbers.
Indeed, it may be considered as a
under another name, and, in its early
continuation of the above publication
stages, it was announced as coming
forth under the auspices of the same
editor, whom continued ill health, as
we learn from the preface, compelled
to retire. Its first appearance was in
weekly numbers, at threepence each,
and we understand that the sale bas
Of these,
been very respectable.
stitute the volume before us.
twenty-six, bound up together, con-

The articles which fill its pages are frequently communicating instruction numerous, detached, and diversified, through narrative, allegory, and anecgation of abstract principles, but more dote, sometimes rising to an investiless pleasantry, and substituting the generally blending advice with harmflowers of amusement for intensity of thought. We are not aware, however, that the vivacity which entermost distant shades of immorality. tains, is ever accompanied with the On the contrary, the more sprightly pieces, instead of degenerating into levity, always inculcate some useful lesson.

"The spirit and manners of the age,” which this book brings into no