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In another place Bacchus is introduced, as if he really existed, and is mentioned in the same passage with Angels.

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Will pay, 'ere long, and bless me with repose. N. IX. 1. 2173. He compares death to the stranding of a bark on Charon's shore:

In life embark'd, we smoothly down the tide.

Of time descend, but not on time intent;

Amus'd unconscious of the gliding wave,

Till, on a sudden, we perceive a shock;

We start, awake, look out; what see we there ?
Our brittle bark is burst on Charon's shore.

Speaking of Suicide, he says,

N. V. 1. 411.

What groan was that, Lorenzo? Furies, rise,
And drown, in your less execrable yell,

Britannia's shame.

N. V. 1. 434.

Lorenzo is reproached N. IX. for not being guilty of idolatry.

Lorenzo's admiration, pre-engaged,

Ne'er ask'd the moon one question; never held

* In the Chorus at the end of the first Act of The Battle of Hexham, Mars is made the God of the White Rose Party:

Strike!- the God of Conquest sheds
His choicest laurels on your heads:
Mars, with fury-darting eye,
Smooths his brow, and stalks before us,

Leading our triumphant chorus,

Hand in hand, with victory, &c,

Least correspondence with one single star;
Ne'er rear'd an altar to the Queen of Heav'n
Walking in brightness: or her train ador'd.

1. 1642.

This is very remarkable. The Israelites were exhorted (Deut. iv. 15. 19.) "Take ye good heed unto yourselves,-lest thou lift up thine eyes unto heaven, and when thou seest the sun, and the moon, and the stars, even all the host of heaven, shouldest be driven to worship them, and serve them; which the Lord thy God hath divided unto all nations under the whole heaven." And, accordingly, we find Job, in clearing his innocence to his friends, say, "If I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking in brightness; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand; this also were an iniquity to be punished by the judge, for I should have denied the God that is above." xxxi. 26-28.

I am aware that these expressions of Young's are figurative, but we should not introduce as figures, those things which would be wrong in reality, and to adopt them first in play, may lead to the practice of them in earnest; at least they divert the mind from the proper object.

SKELTON (the Rev. Philip) in his 2nd Reflection, on Bigotry, speaking of Superstition, says, that it "is the foible of weak minds, and consists in laying too great a stress on trifles, or things foreign to religion. In such minds the infinite importance of religion itself is apt to communicate some share of its own weight and dignity to all its circumstances, and to every thing, that but seems to second its good purposes, to raise its ardours, or promote its effects. In this light, superstition looks like the harmless, but simple child of religion, and passes unsuspected, till, grown up to a degree of strength, it steals the reins from its mother's hands, and drives her out of the house. It begins with observations on spilling salt, on meeting a red-haired woman in the morning, on the flight of a bird; but proceeds to an adoration of the moon, and to offering human sacrifices to a fancied deity." (See Clapham's Edition of Skelton's Sermons, vol. i. p. 402.)

Accordingly in The Tragedy of Douglas, we hear Douglas, a Christian, addressing the stars as his Deity.

Ye glorious stars! high heav'n's resplendent host!

To whom I oft have of my lot complain'd,

Hear and record my soul's unalter'd wish!

Dead or alive, let me but live renown'd! &c.

Act V.*

We consider it one, of the errors of popery to pray to Angels, and, I must confess, I have frequently wondered at hearing the air,

Angels, ever bright and fair,

Take, O take me to your care; &c.

from the Oratorio of Theodora, sung in our Churches. I should by no means think it an unlikely error for a mind, versed in our popular airs, and but moderately informed in religion, to fall into, to make use of this on a death bed.

one.

There is a similar air in Jephtha,

Waft her, Angels, through the skies, &c.

The old Song of Guardian Angels is, of course, familiar to every
It contains a strange mixture of popery and heathenism,

Guardian Angels, now protect me,

Send, Oh! send the youth I love;

Deign, O Cupid, to direct me,

Lead me through the myrtle grove: &c.

In the Opera of The Haunted Tower is a song, which begins
Spirit of my Sainted Sire,

With success my soul inspire, &c.

The inspiration now I feel, &c.

Alicia, in Jane Shore, says,

And You, the brightest of the stars above,
Ye saints, that once were women here below,
Be witness of the truth, the holy friendship,
Which here to this, my other self, I vow.
If I not hold her nearer to my soul,
Than every other joy the world can give,
Let poverty, deformity, and shame,
Distraction and despair seize me on earth,
Let not my faithless ghost have peace hereafter,
Nor taste the bliss of your celestial fellowship.

A. I. S. 2.

It is some years since I read the Play of The Robbers, but I think I remember that Charles Moor makes his friend swear by his father's grey hairs.

A. V.

It is true, that the period of the Play of Jane Shore is during the times of Popery; but still, as prayers, even at that time, were offered to the Deity himself, it is not necessary, even in a critical point of view, to make the characters address Saints and Angels. They should either be addressed to the true object, or entirely omitted.

At the beginning of Act III. of Douglas, Anna, after speaking of Lady Randolph sleeping, says,

Ye ministers

Of gracious heaven, who love the human race,
Angels and Seraphs, who delight in goodness,
Forsake your skies and on her couch descend!
There from her fancy chase those dismal forms
That haunt her waking; her sad spirit charm
With images celestial, such as please

The blest above upon their golden beds.

In The Battle of Hexham, Act I. Scene 3. Queen Margaret says,

Oh! may the white robed angel,

That watches over baby innocence,

Hear a fond mother's prayer, and in the battle

Cast his protecting mantle round thee.

And the idea of the protecting mantle is afterwards treated with levity by another of the characters.

In the lines on Mrs. Unwin's monument, in East Dereham

Church, is the following address,

Her spotless dust, angelic guards, defend!

TICKEL, in his Lines to the Earl of Warwick, on the Death of Addison, goes farther, and addresses his departed friend,

Oh! if, sometimes, thy spotless form descend,
To me thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend!
When Rage misguides me, or when Fear alarms,
When Pain distresses, or when Pleasure charms,
In silent whisp'rings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart,

Lead thro' the paths thy virtue trod before,

Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.

MR. WRANGHAM, in the beginning of his Seaton's Prize Poem of The Holy Land, invokes the Spirit of CowPER.

SPIRIT SO lately fled of Him, whose lyre

'Mid its "light Task" with strains of holiest theme

Oft sounded, and for Sion's songs renounc'd
Th' "accomplish'd Sofa's" praise: Oh yet pursue
Thy wonted ministry; and breathe again
Accents, which seraphs, from their tuneful toil
Pausing, deem'd more than mortal! Oh, 'ere heaven
Receive thee, Spirit, for its loftier airs
Impatient, cast that mystic robe below-
Thy CowPER's mantle-on the pilgrim muse,
And guide to Palestine her destin'd way.

In an Elegy on the late Right Honourable William Pitt, there are many expressions, which I consider as highly presumptuous and profane.

Immortal Pitt ascends his native skies;

Seeks the bright fountain whence his genius flow'd.

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It then proceeds to suppose him either roving through boundless space, or admitted into the councils of the Almighty, and concludes with these lines:

Whate'er in those bright realms thine high employ,
To saints gives pleasure, or to angels joy;

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Oh! from those bright abodes of bliss look down,
From fiend-like rage protect the British crown,—
And, till the last dread century expire,

Stars turn to dust, and planets melt in fire,

O'er thy lov'd isle thy ample pinions wave,

And guard that empire which THOU DIEDST TO SAVE!

So prone are persons when writing poetry to forget themselves, that I find even my late friend, the pious, the Christian, HENRY KIRKE WHITE, in his Poem of the CHRISTIAD, falling into this

error.

I.

I sing the CROss! ye white rob'd angel-choirs,

Who know the chords of harmony to sweep;

Ye, who o'er holy David's varying wires

Were wont of old your hovering watch to keep,
M

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