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"Survey the scene of life-in yonder room,
Pillow'd in beauty 'neath the cradle gloom,
While o'er its features plays an angel smile,-
A breathing cherub slumbers for awhile:
Those budding lips, that faintly-fringed eye,
That placid cheek, and uncomplaining sigh,
The little limbs in soft embrace entwin'd,
Like flower-leaves folded from the gelid wind;
All in their tender charms, her babe endear,
And feed the luxury of a mother's fear.
"Next, mark her infant, rais'd to childhood's
stage,

Bound in the bloom of that delightful age-
With heart as light as sunshine on the deep,
And eye that wo has scarcely taught to weep!
The tip-toe gaze, the pertinacious ken,
Each rival attribute of mimick'd men,
The swift decision, and unbridled way,
Now picture forth his yet auspicious day.
"Whether at noon he guides his tiny boat
By winding streams, and woody banks remote,
Or climbs the meadow tree, or trails the kite,
Till clouds aerial veil his wond'ring sight;
Or wanders forth among far woods alone,
To catch with ravish'd ear the cuckoo's tone,-
A hand above o'ershades the venturous boy,
And draws the daily circle of his joy!

"And thus when manhood brings its weight of

care,

To swell the heart and curb the giddy air, The father, friend, the patriot, and the man, Share in the love of Heaven's parental plan; Till age o'ersteal his mellow'd form at last, And wintry locks tell summer youth is past; Then like the sun, slow-wheeling to the wave, He sinks with glory to a welcome grave!"

In addition to the principal poem, there are various minor pieces, some of which are exquisitely beautiful, vigorous, and original.

In our notice, last week, we were compelled, through want of time, to make our extracts almost at random; but, we trust, they were calculated to show that our opinion of the merits of this beautiful poem was not an exaggerated one. We have since read the whole volume at our leisure, and our admiration has increased in proportion to the attention we have bestowed upon it. We shall presently have occasion to point out certain passages illustrative of its general character; but it will be proper, in the first place, to pursue the plan upon which we set out, and carry our readers with us to the end of the poem.

Part III. is as replete with poetic feeling, and is sustained with even more vigour, than either of the preceding. It thus commences: "Now while the starry choirs aerial rise, And liquid moonlight mellows all the skies, Oh! let sublime Imagination soar High as the lightnings rage, or thunders roar; Ride on the deep, or travel with the sun, Far as Creation smiles, or Time has run: So shall her eagle eye divinely see All living-breathing-full of Deity!

In overv wava and wind, and fruit and flower

"Who hung yon planet in And dash'd the sunbeam from Who bade the ocean mounta And thunder rattle from the Through hill and vale who t ful stream,

Made rain to nurture, and the Who charm'd the clod into a And filled it with a living fla One Great Enchanter helm' Creator!-God!-the grand whole,

A consideration of atheism izing effects on the world, gi opportunity of introducing a some of those horrors which early periods of the French he has touched with a master chain of reasoning which su duce us to believe that his m gically than poetically gifted with the purest spirit of phy:

"If Death for ever doom us And earth-born Pleasure be The rapid years shall bury al Nor leave one hope to re-uni No more the voice of Friend: No more the mother on her i But vanishing, like snow upd Nature shall perish in eterna

"Illustrious beacons! spiri Are ye embosom'd in perenn Shall ye, whose names, un shine

Bright as the flame that marl For ever slumber-never me Too pure for sorrow, too sub Ah, no! celestial Fancy love With eager pinion and proph To radiant dwellings of imm Where Pain can never co

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hour

Of Death's divine, inexorable power,
When all this fairy world shall glide away,
Like midnight dreams before the morning day?
See! how he shudders at the thought of death!
What doubt and horror hang upon his breath!
The gibb'ring teeth, glaz'd eye, and marble limb,
Shades from the tomb stalk out, and stare on
him!-

"Lo! there, in yonder fancy-haunted room, What mutter'd curses trembled through the gloom,

When pale, and shiv'ring, and bedew'd with fear,

The dying sceptic felt his hour drew near!
From his parch'd tongue no soothing accents
fell,

No bright hopes kindled at his faint farewell;
As the last throes of death convuls'd his cheek,
He gnash'd, and quail'd, and raised a hideous
shriek,

Rounded his eyes into a ghastly glare,
Lock'd his white lips, and all was mute despair!

"Go, child of darkness! see a Christian
die!

No horror pales his lip, or rolls his eye;
No dreadful doubts, or dreamy terrors, start
The hope Religion pillows on his heart,
When with a dying hand he waves adieu
To all who love so well, and weep so true!
Calm, as an infant to the mother's breast
Turns fondly longing for its wonted rest,
He pants for where congenial spirits stray,
Turns to his God, and sighs his soul away!"

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"EVENING.

"How sweet, upon yon mountain's tranquil brow,

While ruddy sunbeams gild the crags below,

But there is one part more sublimely grand, more awfully descriptive, than any we have quoted: it is the poet's conception of a blazing world, with which the Omnipresence of the Deity concludes. This consists of about a hun-To stand, and mark with meditative view, dred lines, from which we shall make one or two short extracts, and then select some detached passages, remarkable either for their pathos, originality, felicity of description, or elegance of versification; by which our readers will be enabled to judge of the general tone and structure of the poem :

"O! say, what Fancy, though endow'd sub-
lime,

Can picture truly that tremendous time,
When the last sun shall blaze upon the sea,
And earth be dash'd into eternity!
A cloudy mantle will enwrap that sun,
Whose face so many worlds have gazed upon!
The placid moon, beneath whose pensive beam
We all have loved to wander and to dream,
Dyed into blood, shall glare from pole to pole,
And light the airy tempests as they roll!
And those sweet stars, that, like familiar eyes,
Are wont to smile a welcome from the skies,
Thick as the hail-drops, from their depths will

Where the far ocean faints in hazy blue,
While on the bosom of the midway deep
The emerald waves in flashing beauty leap!-
Here, as we view the burning God of time,
Wrapp'd in a shroud of glory, sink sublime,-
Thoughts of immortal beauty spring to birth,
And waft the soul beyond the dreams of earth!"

"ADDRESS TO THE STARS.

"Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright, Untroubled sentries of the list'ning night! While half the world is lapp'd in midnight dreams,

And round the lattice creep your drowsy
beams,

How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies!"

A NIGHT VIEW OF THE FIELD OF BATTLE.

"The cannon's hush'd!-nor drum, nor clarion
sound;
Helmet and hauberk gleam upon the ground;

nd horse lie welt'ring in their gore

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"NIGHT-THE SENSATIONS OF THE VIRTUOUS.

"Not so comes Darkness to the good man's breast,

When Night brings on the holy hour of rest;
Tired of the day, a pillow laps his head,
While heavenly vigils watch around the bed;
His spirit bosom'd on the God of All,
Peace to the hour! whate'er the night befal:-
Then pleasing Memory unrolls her chart,
To raise, refine, and regulate the heart;
Exulting boyhood, and its host of smiles-
Next busy manhood battling with its toils,
Delights and dreams that made the heart run
o'er,

The love forgotten, and the friends no more-
The panorama of past life appears,
Warms his pure mind, and melts it into tears!
Till, like a shutting flower, the senses close,
And on him lies the beauty of repose."

THE SABBATH.

"Sweet Sabbath morn! from childhood's dimpled prime,

I've loved to hail thy calm-renewing time;
Soft steal thy bells upon the pensive mind,
In mingling murmurs floating on the wind,
Telling of friends and times long wing'd away,
And blissful hopes, harmonious with the day.

"On thy still dawn, while holy music peals, And far around the lingering echo steals, What heart communes not with the day's repose,

And bursts the thraldom of terrestrial woes?
Who, in His temple, gives to God a prayer,
Nor feels the majesty of Heaven is there?-
The listening silence of the vaulted pile,
Where gather'd hearts their homage breathe
awhile;

The mingled burst of penitential sighs,
The choral incense swelling to the skies,
All raise the soul to energies sublime,
And bless the solemn sadness of the time.

"Emblem of Peace!—upon the village plain
Thou dawn'st a blessing to the toil-worn swain;
Soon as thy smiles athwart the upland play,
His bosom gladdens with the brightening day;
Humble and happy, to his lot resigned,
He feels the inward sabbath of the mind."

"INNOCENCE IN CHILDHOOD.

"Whene'er I gaze upon a sinless child,
Tossing its merry head of ringlets wild,-
Lip, cheek, and eye, all in that lovely glow
Young spirits feel, as yet unchill'd by wo,
A voiceless wonder animates each sense,
To think how Mercy watches innocence!"

"PLEASURES OF RETROSPECTION. "There are some heart-entwining hours in life, With sweet seraphic inspiration rife; When mellowing thoughts, like music on the

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"DEATH.

"O Death-thou dreadless earth,

The elements shrunk blasted a Careering round the world lik Martyrs before, and victims st Ages on ages cannot grapple t Dragging the world into etern

The minor poems in this e are fifteen in number, many blank verse of the most vigoro sess even more originality tha ject. They are entitled, Mor Night; Marius; the Dreadf Death of Corinne; Vive 1 Trance; the Crucifixion; and night. Those written in rhyr kinds of metre, forming an a to the rest, and affording an the author's genius and versat

The work is dedicated, by p Bishop of London. This is a the poet is worthy of his pa cannot but be satisfied with h

There are here and there which might, we think, have others more expressive of the ed; but, as blemishes, they ar mark, and we have no anxie ourselves as verbal critics.

We had intended to have s specting there being two po name; but why should we? scarcely a parallel to be drawn James, of Sheffield," as a c enough designated the elder writer of religious poetrytaste, and a good member of a great respect for him and the fire of his genius is chas with a steady flame. The ge er Montgomery, on the cont in vivid flashes, less steady, b brilliant. He appears to hav ard poets with advantage; a his style from Pope, Golds sification and polish remind u though on the whole, perhaps bell's Pleasures of Hope tha rate work; and were it no which runs through the wh his own, we should be incline had chosen that justly celebr model as regards style.

We now close our remarks viction that Mr. Robert Mor the foundation of his future the most solid basis, and it fault should he ever descen elevation to which his genius so early and so suddenly rais

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able both to the original Hebrew, and also to the custom annually prevailing in Syria. The original (id le id) simply signifies, hand to hand. And this is the custom of persons in the East, when they greet each other, or strike hands, in token of friendship and agreement. They touch their right hands respectively; and then raise them up to their lips and forehead. This is the universal Eastern courtesy: the English Version, and the devices grounded upon it, give the idea of "hand clasped in hand," which is European, rather than Oriental. The sense, therefore, is-Though hand meet hand-intimating, that heart assents to heart in the perpetration of wickedness-" yet shall not the wicked go unpunished."

HOUSE OF THE DEAD.

While walking out, one evening, a few fields' distance from Deir el Kamr, with Hanna Doomani, the son of my host, to see a detached garden belonging to his father, he pointed out to me, near it, a small solid stone building, apparently a house: very solemnly adding, "Kabbar beity," the sepulchre of our family. It had neither door nor window. He then directed my attention to a considerable number of similar buildings, at a distance, which, to the eye, are exactly like houses; but which are, in fact, family mansions for the dead.

Perhaps this custom may have been of great antiquity; and may serve to explain some Scripture phrases. The prophet Samuel was buried in his house at Ramah: 1 Sam. xxv. 1: it could hardly be in his dwelling-house. Joab, also, 1 Kings ii. 34. This is the house, &c. Job xxx. 23. Possibly, likewise, the passages in Prov. ii. 18, 19, and vii. 27, and ix. 18, describing the house of a wanton woman, may have drawn their imagery from this custom.

MATT. XXVI. 23, AND JOHN Xiii. 25-27.

But the practice, which was most revolting to me, was this: when the master of the house found in the dish any dainty morsel, he took it out with his fingers, and applied it to my mouth. This was true Syrian courtesy and hospitality; and had I been sufficiently well bred, my mouth would have opened to receive it. On my pointing to my plate, however, he had the goodness to deposit the choice morsel there. I would not have noticed so trivial a circumstance, if it did not exactly illustrate what the Evangelists record of the last Supper. Matthew relates, that the traitor was described by our Lord in these terms. that dippeth his hand, &c. xxvi. 23. From this it may be inferred, that Judas sat near to our Lord; perhaps, on one side next to him. John, who was leaning on Jesus' bosom, describes the fact with an additional circumstance, xiii. 25-27.

ISAIAH lii. 2.

He

the version: but I see no necessity for the alteration, although to English ears it may sound more appropriate. A person of rank in the East often sits down upon the ground, with his attendants about him.

MATT. vi. 3, AND PROV. vi. 13..

The manner in which the Samaritan priest desired me, on parting, to express our good will, was by an action, than which there is not one more common in all the Levant. He put the forefinger of his right hand parallel to that of his left, and then rapidly rubbed them to gether, while I was expected to do the same repeating the words sui, sui; that is, "right right:" or, in common acceptation, "together together!" It is in this manner that persons express their consent on all occasions; on con cluding a bargain, on engaging to bear on another company, and on every kind of friendly agreement or good understanding.

May not this serve to explain the phrase in Matt. vi. 3: "Let not thy left hand," &c. That is, "Let not thy heart consent to its own good thoughts, with a sinful self-applause. So much is said, in the Old Testament, o speaking of the eyes, hands, and even feet, tha it is scarcely understood by Englishmen. The should see the expressive and numerous gesti culations of foreigners when they converse many a question is answered, and many a sig nificant remark conveyed, by even children who learn this language much sooner than their mother tongue. Perhaps the expression of Solomon, in Prov. vi. 13, may appear mor natural, when it is considered, that the mod of sitting on the ground in the East brings th feet into view, nearly in the same direct lin as the hands; the whole body crouching down together, and the hands, in fact, often resting upon the feet.

PSALM CXXIX. 6.

In the morning the master of the house lai in a stock of earth; which was carried up, an spread evenly on the top of the house, which flat. The whole roof is thus formed of mer earth, laid on, and rolled hard and flat. On th top of every house is a large stone roller, fo the purpose of hardening and flattening thi layer of rude soil, so that the rain may no penetrate: but upon this surface, as may b supposed, grass and weeds grow freely. It to such grass that the Psalmist alludes, as use less and bad-"Let them be as the grass upo the house-tops, which withereth afore it grow eth up."-Jowett's "Researches in Syria, &c. p. 89.

ORIENTAL DRESS.

ISA. lii. 2. 10.

The use of the Oriental dress, which I no wear, brings to the mind various Scriptur Illustrations, of which I shall only mentio

The sense of the expressions-" Shake thy-two.

430

free, that, in an instant, the left hand passing up the right arm makes it bare; and this is done when a person-a soldier, for example, about to strike with the sword-intends to give his right arm full play. The image represents Jehovah as suddenly prepared to inflict some tremendous, yet righteous judgment-so effectual, that all the ends of the world shall see the Salvation of God.

The other point illustrated occurs in the second verse of the same chapter: where the sense of the last expressions is, to an Oriental, extremely natural-Shake thyself from the dust -arise-sit down, O Jerusalem. It is no uncommon thing to see an individual, or a group of persons, even when very well-dressed, sitting, with their feet drawn under them, upon the bare earth, passing whole hours in idle conversation. Europeans would require a chair; but the natives here prefer the ground. In the heat of summer and autumn, it is pleasant to them to wile away their time in this manner, under the shade of a tree. Richly adorned females, as well as men, may often be seen thus amusing themselves. As may naturally be expected, with whatever care they may, at first sitting down, choose their place, yet the flowing dress by degrees gathers up the dust: as this occurs, they, from time to time, arise, adjust themselves, shake off the dust, and then sit down again. The captive daughter of Zion, therefore, brought down to the dust of suffering and oppression, is commanded to arise and shake herself from that dust; and then, with grace and dignity, and composure and security, to sit down; to take, as it were, again, her seat and her rank amid the company of the nations of the earth, which had before afflicted her, and trampled her to the earth.

It may be proper to notice, that Bishop Lowth gives another rendering-Arise, ascend thy lofty seat-and quotes Eastern customs to justify the version: but I see no necessity for the alteration, although to English ears it may sound more appropriate. A person of rank in the East often sits down upon the ground, with his attendants about him.-Ibid. 282.

p.

PARABLE OF THE TEN VIRGINS.

Feeling unwilling to confine the following new and beautiful illustration of Scripture to the circle of my literary acquaintance, I have obtained the permission of the pious and learned author, to transmit it to you, with the hope of its being favoured with an early insertion in your magazine. The writer was, some years ago, one of the chaplains of the East India Company, and the friend and coadjutor of Dr. Buchanan, at St. John's church, now the cathedral in Calcutta.

μ.

"I send you an illustration of some passages in ancient authors, which my residence in India threw in my way, and which lately recurred to my recollection.

"The passage which it most particularly elucidates, is the awful parable of the wise and foolish virgins, Matt. xxv. 1-13. You know that the luminaries there mentioned are, in the

word in our

1 to pretend to inform any that, Aauras, is not what o readers understand by a lamp a lamp, being Auxos. Lat which, comes lucerna dismya two nozles: trimyzos, one See Martial. Epig. xiv. 41. mixos;) but Auras, truly sig "This, however, being well tion may occur, how the oil wa an instrument, or luminary, as "Now, what occurs in In When with a ready answer. travel at night through unfred that country, where keeping u important, we do not trust ou tern, as in a town or station hired, who carries in his righ torch, having a large head bibulous substance, and in h (the aor. Matt. xxv. 4.) keeps occasionally pouring oil tow. This makes a large, str stronger than that of the wick blaze brightens the whole pat power of rain or wind, to exti

"Before I was set to thinki this, I remember sometimes in ing Holy Scripture, by exhort a congregation to have oil in believe I was not singular: w into St. Matthew we find no but it is there, Oil in their v lamps.'

"The principal use of this it rescues the figure of this av a great degradation, to which form it is subject, from the that a mere English reader has that it is the will of our blesse Holy Spirit, in other parts of t picture that terrible event in so est descriptions that can strik ings of the hearer, or the rea xxv. 31, &c.; 1 Thess. iv. 26; If, then, we imagine the pers down, as is usual in those co dress they happened to have take some sleep, and all at or or shout of many voices to be such torches to be ignited t whole streets, and the houses i berate their light, and these clude, by others of the bride here is a striking scene, of sud have forced the attention, a nerves of the hearer who und sion. The whole representati with the grand descriptions of in the holy word.

"There is a passage in a p
which these critical remarks r
the Agamemnon of Eschylus
where Clytemnestra has been
city, and the chorus wonders w
says,

Αλλη δ' άλλοθεν ουρανορ
Λαμπας ανίσχει,
Θαρμασσομένη χρισματι

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