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firm them. But a perpetual récurrence to the bare phraseology of scripture, merely for the sake of quoting it, and the accumulation of such quotations one upon another, will produce a very contrary effect; the majesty of scripture is degraded, and the unity and force of the author's composition is destroyed. The passages which Mr. T. has selected are in general highly appropriate; we only regret that they are too numerous. The last fault we shall notice is a little degree of affected sensibility. Silence, and not loquacity, is the natural effect of genuine sorrow; nor do we feel disposed to ascribe more tenderness of heart, or more real pungency of grief to any one, because he explains to us how acute are his sorrows. Perhaps, the author might have been deceived by the false taste of Sternc, and others of the same school. The following expression seems to indicate that he has made them his model. The very thought fills my heart with intolerable anguish, and " p. 290. Such expressions are unnatural. A man oppressed with intolerable anguish would not find language come so easily to his relief. If Mr. T. would study the models of true taste, we are persuaded he would not find them guilty of this outrage on the laws of human nature. A phrase immediately precedes this intimation, which ill-prepared us to sympathize in the author's anguish: " a helpless family have been bereft of a kind and dutiful husband, father and protector.

As a specimen of the author's style, which is not wholly free from Scotticism, we select the following passage.

Hitherto, my brethren, we have looked only at the dark side of our subject. We have been visiting" the land of darkness and the shadow of death; a land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness.”* Let us now, by faith, take our station on the top of Pisgah. Here a bright prospect opens. From this sacred eminence, let us delight our eyes, with such a view, as we are able to take, of the promised land-" the goodly heritage" provided for the people of God," the land flowing with milk and honey." Let us behold the mountains of myrih, and the hills of frankincense. Let us survey "the valleys covered over" with all manner of precious fruits. Let us look at "the fountains of living waters, clear as crystal," and "the rivers of pleasures," by which the fruitful fields are so beautifully intersected. Let us view "the city of the great King, of which such glorious things are spoken."It is "beautiful for situation, and the joy of the whole land." Its light is like unto a stone most precious," for the glory of God doth lighten it." Its wall, great and high, is of jasper; the foundations of it are garnished with all manner of precious stones, The gates are of pearl; and the street of the city is pure gold, as it were transparent glass.f Let us behold the numerous, the beautiful, the magnificent mansions reared by the hands of the dis

Job x. 20, 21. † Rev. xxi. ‡ John xiv. 2. 3.

Let us meditate on the

vine Redeemer, for the reception of his people, honours and the happiness of the glorified inhabitants of this "better country." Let us suppose, that we see our dear departed friends adding to their numbers, and rejoicing in their joy. Let us imagine, that we hear them uniting their accents of praise with those of other glorified spirits, singing the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb." After this, let us exult in the hope, that we shall shortly join their company; that we shall partake of their enjoyments; and that we shall engage in their exercises, "serving God day and night in his temple;" and singing, with unceasing wonder and heart-felt gratitude, the praise of the glorious Redeemer, in that enraptured language, which, even in "the house of our pilgrimage," we are permitted to employ : "Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion for and ever. Amen."† pp. 170-172.

The volume is in general deserving of our warm recommen dation; and we agree with the author in hoping it may prove a balm of consolation to many a wounded heart.

Art. XIV. The Resurrection, a Poem. By John Stewart, Esq. Author of "The Pleasures of Love," 8vo. pp. 253. Price 7s. Longman and Co. 1808.

THE nature of Mr. Stewart's former work, was not so incongruous, as its title would seem to indicate, with the solemn subject of the poem now before us. If its poetical merit could claim but little praise, its moral tendency deserved but little censure. We have no reason from either work to think harshly of the author's designs or disposition; we ascribe his errors as a moralist to no other cause than his defects as a poet, and cannot indeed avoid recognizing the orthodoxy of his professed creed, and the tone of devotion that prevails in this Poem. But in all parts of it, there is unquestionable evidence of a mind unusually perplexed; a mind possessing a variety of heterogeneous and disorderly ideas, with as little power to manage them, as a chairman in a riotous debating club, where every one is eager to speak, where some are choaked with vehemence and some stifled with pressure, where all are faint, yet impetuous, and the result of the universal struggle is unintelligible clamour and ludicrous confusion. His sentiments have not time to develope; his phrases have not room to make sense. One would think on some occasions that his memory is the only faculty in exercise; and that every thought which occurs is immediately ushered into public, with little other order than that of a surprised garrison who rush forth into the uproar as fast as they wake. If Mr. S. had taste and force of intellect enough to keep order in his head,

* Rev. vii. 15. † Rev. i. 5, 6,

there would be a chance of his rendering effectual service to the public, and acquiring a merited good name. He has a stock of materials, as we have hinted, not deficient in value, variety, or splendour; but he too often betrays a most unfortunate want of skill to work them up. We shall give a specimen or two.

Though, wrapt in night's impenetrable gloom,

Each mortal form must moulder in the tomb,
While o'er the sod the glow-worm's lamp shall burn
In emerald blaze, and wake the silent urn;
Far, far beyond her tenement of clay,

The rescued spirit mounts the ambient way,

Leaves, far behind, the wind's tumultuous roar,

And plies her voyage for her native shore.'-p. 81.

Now we beg Mr. S. and the reader to reflect, whether there is any instance, real or conceivable, of a lamp, a glow-worm's lamp, waking an urn; whether there is any instance of an urn or any thing else possessing such powers of vision, as to be put to sleep by the sun all day, and yet waked by the glowworm's lamp at night; whether there is any instance of a body or spirit desiring to be rescued from a tenement; whether there is any chance of plying a voyage more successfully, by getting rid of the wind, and mounting any way whatever, even an ambient way. The passage is full of incongruous imagery; the figures separately are good, but they are miserably deformed in a tasteless combination.

We will add another of the passages which are remarkable for this disgusting fault in composition; we shall leave the author and the reader to settle its merits without any comment of our own, as they may possibly tell us, with a just sneer at our incapacity, that we should find it easier to ridicule than understand.

'Nor may thy power, sweet source of vision! rest
To give celestial insight to the breast,

To give unfledged imagination force.

And trace (what?) to glory's uncreated source,
Whose fiat strong unmoors the ardent soul,
And from the line can waft it to the pole !
Till o'er this fading span the spirit rise,
On ransom'd hope to mount the yielding skies ;-
And as the prophet who in darkness lay,
Whelm'd 'neath the deep immeasurable way,
Heard o'er his head, while loud the ocean raves,
The harmless echoes of the booming waves ;-
So can this holy light refulgent glow,

Amid the glooms of misery below,

And through the vule of tears, tho' storms molest,
Point to the haven of eternal rest!'p. 101.

There is scarcely a fault which a writer is liable to commit, that might not be exposed from the present work; we are not giving lectures on composition, but the public should be apprized of the extreme inaccuracy with which a poet may be chargeable, who is neither dull nor illiterate.

Such was thy son, Columbia! in the hour

You burst th' enchantment of the classic bower;' p. 71. 'Lives there a man who madly dare resign-' p. 66. Say why the woolly negro dare to smile,' p. 16. • How Horeb's rock impell'd the gushing wave,' p. 8. Ecce iterum!

'Still as th' unguided voyage she would soar.' p. 11.

Like the lorn vestige (Palmyra) on yon torrid sands
That reads a volume where each fragment stands,' P. 2.
Have ta'en their voyage for that happier shore.' p. 2.
• Angel of Vision! who selected stands (stand'st)
Who joys (joy'st) &c.

• Feigns in Religion's cause her cant sublime (whose?)
And pawns that name to sanctify the crime,' p. 47.
'Lively, yet pensive; sportive, yet serene'!! p. 83.

• On nimble plumes the floating cherubs fly,' p. 111.

It may surprise the reader to find that Mr. Stewart is capable of writing some passages, which, though far from blameless, possess considerable merit.

Yet, glorious truth! not still the grave shall hold
The long-lost captives that her chains enfold!
When the dread morn of RESURRECTION beams,
And warmth, returning, feeds the vital streams;
Then the lit eye once more its rays shall shed,
And the flush'd cheek recal its roses fled,
Then, all the joints shall know each portion'd part,
And the red rills gush proudly round the heart ;-
When hope and memory chase the waveless rest,
And swell with meeting tides the trembling breast;
When all life's sophistries, at last, are o'er,
And its allurements captivate no more.' pp. 72, 73.

Say, Power supreme! shall those on earth we love,
Nor feel nor know the intercourse above?

Shall all those hopes that swell the heart the while,
Not meet in heav'n the transport of a smile?
Shall the dear friends in memory's page that dwell,
Not hear we linger'd o'er their narrow cell?
O thou! whose blossoms, nipp'd in early bloom,
Untimely wither'd in the envious tomb!
Say, shall no more our scenes of youth be dear,
Lost the fine link of sweet communion here

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When pleasure sported on the bier [grave,] of care,
And lit her sunshine for our hearts to share?
Shall all the buds of opening life, that blew
In hope's fair garden, and in fancy's dew,
No more the smile of fond remembrance claim,
And picture hours of innocence the same,-
Hours, with the brother of my childhood spent,
When the light heart was cradled by content?
Shall I not then each well-loved feature trace,
Recal thy smile, and spring to thine embrace?
Yes! as the sailor, who by tempests tost,
On some lone coast survives his shipmates lost,
Spreads for his native home, once more, the sail
That swells exulting to the fav'ring gale:
And joyful strains, the rising shore in view,
To catch each object to remembrance true;
So, in that last, that great decisive hour,
When the new frame assumes angelic power,
In rank celestial though the virtuous shine,
'Mid radiant bands, transcendent and divine,

Still may they know the friends on earth they knew,

And the souls join that there engrafted grew!' pp. 119–121. We hinted at some other defects in Mr. Stewart, beside those of taste. Speaking of the heathen world, he asserts,

'It yet confess'd one great existing cause
Creation's God;'

This is not generally true; in the earlier ages, and in the Oriental world, that is, at a time and place nearer to the divine origin of religious truth, the belief in a supreme, eternal, creating Power, was doubtless prevalent; it seems also to have been entertained by some of the Grecian Philosophers, at a subsequent period, when still greater and brighter discoveries had been made to a select nation in the East, and those philosophers had approached near enough in their travels, to feel the influence of this heavenly illumination. But there is no such tenet in the public creed, in the established religion, of Greece and Rome; and it can scarcely be recognized in that chaos of nonsense, inconsistency, and confusion, the modern mythology of pagan Asia.

There is a whimsical impropriety in the very useless desig. nation of "the late excellent and pious divines, Hervey and Wesley," by the names respectively of Theron and Aspasio!

We find it difficult to give any idea of the plan pursued in this poem; it includes a variety of irrelevant topics, but is chiefly employed, sometimes with more seriousness than discretion, in describing the history of redemption, the character and work of Christ, and the future resurrection of man. A

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