yellow, and with blotted fingers made his blur the greater! How has the pride of thy own heart blinded thee toward thyself! how quick-sighted to another! Thy brother has slipped, but thou hast fallen, and hast blanched thy own impiety with the publishing his sin. Like a fly, thou stingest his sores, and feedest on his corruptions. Jesus came eating and drinking, and was judged a glutton. John came fasting, and was challenged with being a devil. Judge not, my soul, lest thou be judged. Malign not thy brother, lest God laugh at thy destruction. Wouldst thou escape the punishment? judge thyself. Wouldst thou avoid the sin? humble thyself. HIS PRAYER. O God, that art the only searcher of the reins, to whom the secrets of the heart of man are only known, to whom alone the judgment of our thoughts, our words, and deeds, belong, and to whose sentence we must stand or fall,-I, a presumptuous sinner, that have thrust into thy place, and boldly have presumed to execute thy office, do here as humbly confess the insolence of mine attempt, and, with a sorrowful heart, repent me of my doings; and though my convinced conscience can look for nothing from thy wrathful hand but the same measure which I measured to another, yet, in the confidence of that mercy which thou hast promised to all those that truly and unfeignedly believe, I am become an humble suitor for thy gracious pardon. Lord, if thou search me but with a favourable eye, I shall appear much more unrighteous in thy sight than this my uncharitably-condemned brother did in mine. O, look not, Lord, upon me as I am, lest thou abhor me; but, through the merits of my blessed Saviour, cast a gracious eye upon me. Let his humility satisfy for my presumption, and let his meritorious sufferings answer for my vile uncharitableness. Let not the voice of my offence provoke thee with a stronger cry than the language of his intercession. Remove from me, O God, all spiritual pride, and make me little in my own conceit. Lord, light me to myself, that by thy light I may discern how dark I am. Lighten that darkness by thy Holy Spirit, that I may search into my own corruptions: and since, O God, all gifts and graces are but nothing, and nothing can be acceptable in thy sight without charity, quicken the dulness of my 'faint affections, that I may love my brother as I ought. heart, that it may melt at his infirmities. Soften my marble Make me careful in the examination of my own ways, and most severe against my own offences. Pull out the beam of mine own eye, that I may see clearly and reprove wisely. Take from me, O Lord, all grudging, envy, and malice, that my seasonable reproofs may win my brother. Preserve my heart from all censorious thoughts, and keep my tongue from striking at his name. Grant that I make right use of his infirmities, and read good lessons in his failings; that loving him in thee, and thee in him, according to thy command, we may both be united in thee as members of thee: that thou mayest receive honour from our communion here, and we eternal glory from thee hereafter, in the world to come. Quarles wrote a few lines To the pretious Memory of Dr. Martin Luther, before Thomas Hayne's account of that distinguished reformer, published in 1641. They begin well, but conclude in a strain which harmonizes with the accompanying effusion of Vicars. Hayne, after he had taken his Bachelor's Degree, became an Usher of Merchant Tailors' School, and afterwards, about 1612, of Christ's Hospital. Wood says, that he was a noted critic, an excellent linguist, and a solid divine, beloved of learned men, and particularly respected by Selden. He died on the 27th of July, 1645. A very long and laudatory character, which the affection of his friends had inscribed upon his monument, was consumed, together with the church where he lay, in the great fire of London. By his will he made a liberal bequest to his native village, near Leicester; and Dr. Bliss mentions an unengraved portrait of him, which still exists in the library of that town. The following simile is very ingenious and elegant: Even as the needle that directs the hour, HERBERT. Page 250.-Herbert's Musa Responsoria consist of fifty Epigrams, intended as answers to a poem written by Melville, against the discipline of the established church. Three of them are inscribed to James, one to the Prince of Wales, one to the Bishop of Winchester, one to the people of Scotland, exhorting them to peace, one to those whom he supposed led astray by Melville and other writers of his persuasion; the last to the Deity, and the rest to Melville himself.-ZOUCH. Page 264.-Sir Thomas Herbert relates, in the Carolina Threnodia, or Remains of the two last years of Charles the First, that the unfortunate monarch frequently read Bishop Andrews's Sermons, Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, Dr. Hammond's Works, Sandys's Paraphrase, the Faery Queen, &c., and Herbert's poems. To the hasty and contemptuous opinion expressed of the Temple by Mr. Headley, we may oppose the generous commendation of Mr. Coleridge, one of the most amiable and eloquent of modern poets. "Having mentioned the name of Herbert, that model of a man, a gentleman and a clergyman, let me add, that the quaintness of some of his thoughts (not of his diction, than which nothing can be more pure, manly, and unaffected), has blinded modern readers to the great general merit of his poems, which are for the most part excellent in their kind."―The Friend, vol. i. p, 67. See also Biograph. Literar., p. 98. DUPORT. Page 286.-Dr. Zouch says that Duport imbibed the very spirit of Homer. His versions of Job, the Song of Solomon, and the Psalms, go far to warrant this high eulogium. In the Musa Subsecivæ (autore J. D. Cantab, 1676), Herbert's virtues are frequently celebrated. These lines occur on his life, by Walton: Tu quale vatis Templum ibi, et ubi cœlum et Deus; Speculum Sacerdotale, tu qualem pius Pastoris ideam et libro et vitâ tuâ. Tu quale sancitatis, et mentis bona, Morumque nobis tradis exemplum, ac typum, Typum magistro scilicet tuo. The criticism of Herbert's poetry (p. 320) is not so pleasing, because not so just. CRASHAW. Page 319.-"This story, as Mr. Lambe observes, has been paraphrased by Crashaw, Ambrose Philips, and others; none of those versions, however, can at all compare, for harmony and with this before us."grace, Gifford's edition of the Works of Ford, vol. i. p. 14. Every editor assumes the right of elevating his own hero; it is the Esquire vaunting the exploits of his A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lute, Men. A nightingale, Nature's best musician, undertakes The challenge; and for every several strain The well-shaped youth could touch, she sung her own: Upon his quaking instrument, than she, The nightingale, did with her various notes Amet. How did the rivals part? Men. You term them rightly; For they were rivals, and their mistress, harmony. Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes, Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly, |