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not cease

Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits For though I fled him angry, yet, re. return'd,

call'd To Michael thus his humble words To life prolong'd and promis'd race, I

address'd. Celestial, whether among the thrones, Gladly behold though but his utmost or nam'd

skirts Of them the highest; for such of shape Of glory; and far off his steps adore."

may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou In this passage there is a beautitold

ful contrast between the sorrow of Thy message, which might else in tell. Adam and that of Eve... The sorrow ing wound,

of Eve was more melting than that And in performing end us; what be of her dwelt more mi

sides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, she was to leave behind her. The

nutely on the favourite objects which Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings flowers which she had nursed and bring,

cherished with her own hand....the Departure from this happy place, our

nuptial bower which she had decoRecess, and only consolation left

rated....the walks and shades among Familiar to our eyes! all places else

which she had rambled and reposed; Inhospitable appear, and desolate ;

and from which she must now be Nor knowing us, nor known: And, if separated forever, filled her with by prayer

the most piercing regret. The Incessant I could hope to change the sorrow of Adam dwelt more espewill

cially on his banisment from the diOf Him who all things can, I would vine presence, and on the places in

which he appeared or stood visible, To weary him with my assiduous cries: and where he heard the sound of But prayer against his absolute decree his compassionate voice. He re, No more avails than breath against the solves that should he be permitted

wind, Blown stifling back on him that

still to dwell in Paradise, he would breathes it forth;

rear up many mementos of his for.. Therefore to his great bidding I sub

mer days of happiness, that so he mit.

might be able to tell to his children, This most afficts me, that, departing that here his God appeared before hence,

him, and from that thicket he heard As from his face Ishall be hid, depriv'd the sound of his voice. The comfort His blessed countenance: Here I could which the angel endeavours to give frequent

to each of our parents, is of the With worship place by place where he most conciliating and soothing kind. vouchsaf'd

These speeches of Adam and Eve Presence divine ; and to my sons re have been noticed before, but I think late,

not sufficiently. No lines could be « On this mount he appear'd; under

more pathetic. When we consider this tree

that they were spoken by our paStood visible; among these pines his

rents and representatives, can any voice I heard; here with him at this foun. passage in poetry be produced tain talk'd :"

which can equal them in dignified So many grateful altars I would rear

pathos, and in the effect which they Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone

communicate? While reading them, Of lustre from the brook, in memory

every son and daughter of Adam Or monument to ages; and thereon may unite in language somewhat Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, similar. Fields of Paradise, the and flowers :

dwelling of my parents, farewel.... In yonder nether world where shall I Abodes of innocence and of happiseek

ness, "fit haunt for Gods," from you His bright appearances, or foot-step we must be ever secluded...Our foottracci

steps shall not be imprinted upon

your soil....We shall gather no flow Some critics, in order to afford ers from the garden of Eden, to the to the world the testimony of their whisper and music of your woods; discernment, have asserted that to the murmur of your streams we such books were the best in such a shall never listen....reclining from work. One critic has discovered, the banks, our lips shall never and after him many have said, that kiss the coolness of your waters the first six books were the best of ...In your bowers of bliss we the Paradise Lost. Upon what they shall not be permitted to repose.... have grounded this opinion, I can. Our parent fathers shall never tell not discover, They have much us, “On this mount God appeared, more discernment than I pretend to under this tree stood visible, among possess. In the different books, these pines his voice I heard, here there is a variation of matter; but with him at this fountain talked,” the same strength and ardour of

The description in Paradise Lost, imagination....the same burning, Book XI. of the abatement of the intrepid and victorious genius is waters after the deluge, is remark- preserved without diminution ably striking, and deserves to be throughout all of them. I am ofrepeatedly noticed :

ten tempted to laugh at the many “ He look'd, and saw the ark hull absurd criticisms which have been on the food,

written on epic poetry. It forsooth Which now abated; for the clouds must have a beginning, a middle, were fled,

and an end. This we all must aca Driven by a keen north-wind, that, knowledge to be indispensable; for blowing dry,

we cannot conceive how any man Wrinkled the face of deluge, as de- in his senses could give a finished cayd;

narration without these. Every And the clear sun on his wide watery composition on earth, not repres

glass Gaz'd hot, and of the fresh wave

sented as a fragment, written by a

rational man, has a beginning, nid, largely drew, As after thirst; which made their dle, and an end. Then again in the flowing shrink

epopee there must be machinery, From standing lake to tripping ebb, because Aristotle said so, and Hóthat stole

mer has employed it in his Iliad.... With soft foot towards the Deep; but with all due deference to critical who now had stopt

acumen; if all the machinery of His sluices, as the Heaven his wine Homer could be withdrawn, and a dows shut.

substitution be made of an equal The bold and curious personifica- number of Homer's lines with those tions in this passage are most wor taken away, so as to fill up every thy of remark. The face of the de- gap and incoherence of transition, luge is wrinkled by the keen north I should vote for the destruction of wind, like that of an old man by Homer's machinery. Milton's maage. The sun gazes hot, in his chinery is stupendously great, and wonderful mirror of the expanded as far superior to that of all other waters, and draws from them such poets as can be conceived. The draughts to quench the fierceness Jerusalem Delivered stands next in of his thirst, that they hush the tu- dignity, in this respect, to Paradise mults of their billows, shrink away Lost. The machinery of Gothic before him, and with soft foot,” superstition is vastly more pleasing or with gentle murmurs steal again to me when embodied by poetry, to the bosom of the deep. None than Homer's Gods. In the bosom Lut the most mighty imagination of every son and daughter of poetry, could have given birth to such a there is a chord whịch vibrates to picture, and none but a giant in in- the sound of Gothic story. But tellect could have begotten such gi- Homer's mythology communicates gantic personifications.

lio pleasing dread, it thrills with VOL. I....NO, I.


the pressure of no icy fingers, and phrenzy; he is the most familiar Kolds out not one supernatural be- and domestic poet of the English ing that we can love. In the days language; he is full of thought and of my boyhood, when the marvel- exquisite morality. If he has less lous in fiction lifted me above the music and romance than Thomson, world, I read with indifference all he has more solidity and gravity; he the stories of Homer's Gods, and is a better instructor. I have been was always sorry when I was in- lately reading, with delight, his troduced in their company. Like Letters and posthumous poems, preAchilles, I searched for Hector served in Hayley's life of him, and amidst the embattled ranks, not would enrich my Notices with some with his terrible look of revenge, extracts from them; but I wish not but with the eye of interest and af. to put in my sickle, before the harfection; and I could not forgive the vest is ripe; for an edition of Hayvenerable Grecian for making my ley's Life of Cowper is now in an favourite hero fly from his ap- American press; and if this work proaching enemy.

be prosecuted, will form the subject If we exclude from the compa- of a minute and interesting Review. rison the dramatic writers, who Were I called upon in a compa among the English poets, who have ny of poetical votaries and talkers, written in blank verse, shall we to give utterance to one of the most rank next to Milton? Without he- striking passages of Young's Night sitation I would assign that place to Thoughts, I should repeat the folYoung. In some respects, he falls lowing on time, from Night the not beneath Milton. In condensing second.... thought within a small compass, he surpasses all ancient and modern

All-sensual man,

because untouch'd, authors. When he wrote his greatest work, he courted the stillness of He looks on time as nothing: nothing the night, he associated with sha

else dows drear....his

eyes caught Is truly man's; 'tis fortune's. Time's through his lattice the rays of the

a god ...

Thou hast not heard of Time's omnimoon and the stars, and his ears listened to the music of the spheres. For, or against, what wonders can he,

potence; After Young, come Thomson and

do! Cowper.... Thomson is praised by And will: to stand blank neuter he every body, whether they relish

disdains. him or not; and they never praise Not on those terms, was time, heav'ns him unjustly. " Ärise, Júpiter,

stranger, sent and snuff the moon," was not only On this important embassy, to man, the language of a madman, but of a Lorenzo! no: on the long destin'd poet ; and indeed, the highest exhi

hour, liration, the most elevated inven- From everlasting ages growing ripe ; tive agitation of every poet of the That memorable hour, of wond'rous first order, is on the borders of

birth, phrenzy. The soul of Pope was

When the dread Sire, on emanation never tossed by these tumultuous

bent, sensations....he is an accurate, a

And big with nature, rising in his

might, reasoning poet....he is melodious in the highest degree....he must al. Callid forth creation, (for then time

was born) ways please....he should always be By godhead streaming through a thouadmired; but he is vastly surpassed sand worlds, by Milton, Dryden, Young, Thom- Not on those terms, from the great son, Cowper, and Gray, in poetical

days of heav'n, enthusiasm. Cowper has not the From old eternity's mysterious orb, music or romance of Thomson; his Was time cut off, and cast beneath the eye, however, rolled in a fine skies,

1. 0.

long rusb

T'he skies, which watch'd bim in his new time. Time will be swallowed up abode,

in eternity, which is occupied by Measuring bis motions by revolving the existence of God, of angels, and spberes,

of men. That horologe machinery divine. Here I shall, for the present, susHours, days, and months and years bis pend my Critical notices, by assur

cbildren play, Like numerous wings, around him, as being those who have derived any

satisfaction from following the fies : Or rather, as unequal plumes, they pied writer, that should the project

shape His ample pinions, swift as darted ed work of my friend the Editor, be flame,

sufficiently encouraged by a liberal To gain his goal, to reach his ancient and discerning public, they shall rest,

(Deo volante) repeatedly meet the And join anew eternity, his sire; productions of the same pen. In his immutability to rest, When worlds, that count bis circles, now

unbing'd, (Fate the loud signal sounding) beadYo timeless night and chaos, whence

THE TRAVELLER....NO, I. they rose.

I am a man left solitary in the If these lines are not admired, it world. I have neither parents, will not be for want of grandeur in nor wife, nor children, to rejoice in them, but for want of elevation my prosperity, or to mingle their somewhere else. The conception sorrows with mine: my friends and that time is a portion cut off from associates are few. I am not more elernity, and thrust down beneath than thirty years of age, but my the skies, and watched by the hea- pallid cheek, my museful countevenly bodies, and measured by their nance, and some hairs which have revolutions....that days, months, been silvered by an aching head, and years, are his children, or ra- would declare that I was nearer tó ther so many wings, which hover forty. In the course of my journey around him, and direct him in his thus far on the stage of human excourse to the bosom of eternity istence, I have not been an inattenagain, is inexpressibly great. The tive observer of the characters of closing lines might serve as a motto men, and of passing events.... for a philosophical discussion.... Though I could tell much, yet I am Time, separated from the existence called a silent man: and I must of animated beings, is nothing: it is confess, that what I have seen in measured by our consciousness; if life, has more disposed me to bewe bestow individual existence on come a speculative, thoughtful and what we mean by time, it is evident melancholy man, than a vivacious that it cannot cease to exist: though and busy narrator of facts. I am worlds should be destroyed, yet oftentimes more fond of employing such an airy nothing as we mean by my pen, than my tongue, and have time, separated from animated na- occasionally, through its instrumenture, must still be just as it was: tality, preserved on paper some how very fine, then, is the idea of sentimental speculation, and the Young, that time is cut off from traces of some museful journey. In eternity....that it is hastening into this propensity I still persevere, eternity again, with its years and and shall probably to the public adits centuries....and thatwhen worlds dress several numbers of my specuare destroyed, and in the places lations and rambles, which shall which they now occupy, nothing succeed the one which now solicits will be left, to measure the lapse of heir attention.

The attachments, which we form He flew, and left each anxiousthoughos in early life, are generally the behind. strongest and the most sincere.

All these remembrances, as thó The feelings have not then lost shades of departed pleasures, arise their generous warmth, nor is the before his view, and he mourns ardour of sensibility damped by over their grave, with a tear;" all commerce with the world. Covet- these remembrances sweep over ousness has not then been born, and his mind with an enchanting power made the soul the grave of every of melancholy tenderness, and lull noble passion; malice has not then to sleep the cares and business of aroused from its slumbers, nor does the moment.” envy sicken at the praise of a bro

Frequent sensations of this kind ther.... The heart then pants with a

are congenial to the mind which noble emulation, and the blush of has not lost its sensibility and its shame burns on the cheek. Stran- taste. Who can hear with indiffergers to the world, the prospect


ence, in more advanced age, the spreads before the eyes of youth, strain to which he has often listened appears pleasing and enchanting. in his infancy, and which then No hills of difficulty arise before transported him with its liveliness, them; no snares open beneath their or soothed him with its sadness? feet; 'the world to them is virtuous Who can behold, without emotion, and honest, for they have not yet the shades, beneath which he has experienced its guile. It has been often reclined, or revisit the stream often the remark of experience, to whose murmurs he formerly listhat when we are most igno- tened, and along whose banks he rant of human nature, we are directed his earliest rambles? Who freest from care; that those years

can behold, without being carried which are spent within the walls of back to scenes which have forever a college, and which are devoted to gone, the building in which he was the acquirement of knowledge, born? form the happiest period of our I have been excited to these relives. Though I cannot wholly sub- flections, by a visit to the place of scribe to this remark, yet I can

my nativity....I am now gazing on safely say, that, while at college, the house in which I first opened my I passed my most unincumbered eyes on the light of heaven, and exdays. Often from the most exalted ploring the hills, the plains and wastations in society, has the manof the ters, which I traced while a vagrant world looked back, with regret, on bov. Sensations, which are undethe scenes of his youth, on those scribable, rush on my mind at this happy days, when, immersed in review, and I cannot restrain my academic shades, he had not yet desire to pourtray my boyhood, and mingled with the noise and uproar to talk of events, which this spot of of men; when he had not yet disco- my birth recals. Come then, let me vered their machinations and their make this log my chair, this old wiles; when his ambition was con- stump my table, and with my pencil fined to the little sphere in which he let me till these blank leaves of my moved; when he trod, unwearied, pocket-book with the images of the the paths of science, and when the

past. strains of the Grecian and Roman bards kindled his soul to rapture.


When wasting pains, and manhood's

brooding woes Broke not the slumbers of his gay re

pose; When v'er the fields, light as the sum

mer wind,

Where have ye flown, ye visions

Which flutter'd round my head?
Has time's rude hand brush'd you

Is youthful fervor dead?

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