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men, it will deceive itself, and, not up their rest in heaven, and, in comfinding a happiness commensurate panies, were asleep. A living calm with that to which it was born, will not unpartaken by our grateful heart. introduce principles of pain into its Heaven's blessing be on this hut! Ere existence, and with them a disaffection we stoop beneath the humble lintel, to good.

one other look at the sky. EmmaOn the other hand, the spirit of ac- nuel Kant, we recite our extempotion carries the mind to mix itself in raneous version of some of thy noblest the life of men, and to unite its own words. condition with theirs. And here there “ Two things fill my soul with everis a twofold danger. First, because increasing wonder and reverence, the that active intercourse with men must more steadily and continually reflecinvolve much intercourse of hostility; tion is busied with them—the starry there is danger that the selfish prin- heavens above me, and the moral law ciples of action will be brought out within my own being. Both of these into predominant form, and acquire I must not merely seek and suspect as an unnatural sway over the mind ; things veiled in darkness and beyond and in the second place, it must neces. my sight; for I see them before me, sarily happen that this principle tend- and i knit them intimately with the ing entirely to outward life and the consciousness of my own existence. external world, there will be an es- The first begins from the space I octranging of the mind from all the deep cupy in the outward world of sense, and awful feelings.which lie, it may be and enlarges the connexion in which said, in its own solitary depth, and by I stand into the Illimitable great, with degrees an actual oblivion of all the worlds above worlds, in all the boundknowledge which holds to those feel- less terms of their periodic movements, ings.

their beginning, and their duration. William Shakspeare! John How! The second begins from my invisible Edward Young ! William Words- self—my individuality-and places me worth! all with us—in the spirit—in in a world which has real infinitude, this Highland hut.

but is investigable only to the underIt must be further on into the night standing, and with which I recognise than we had supposed—for the storm myself, not, as in the other case, in is utterly dead. We heard the wind merely accidental, but in universal and long moaning—then sobbing—then necessary connexion. The first, as sighing—but now there is not a breath part of a countless multitude of worlds, --and the river has the whole glen annihilates my importance as an anientirely to itself_filling it with a loud mal being, that must again give back but a placid voice. Let us go to the the matter, out of which it was made, door and look at the night. What a to the Planet—a mere point in the starry host! The great golden moon, universe, after it has been a short time, who plunged through the storm--why no one knows how, provided with livart thou absent from a calm like this? ing power. The second, on the other Yet the stars seem glad thou art not hand, raises infinitely my worth, as an here to bedim their lustre ; and that intelligence, through my individuality, planet is almost as splendid as thyself, in which the moral law reveals to me burning apart, and were the rest ob- a life independent of animal nature, scured, sufficient softly to illume the and even of the whole world of sense. skies.

For the mysterious destination of my And 'tis a lovely glen-though existence, through this moral law, is without wood-here and there but a not limited to the condition and bonds few trees

of this life, but stretches into the Infis

nite." The grace of forest trees decayed And pastoral melancholy.”

Perhaps “ The Night Thought3"

are gloomy over-much-yet can we The darkenings from the mountains forget longer than a moment the awful show the knolls greener between—and lot of man on earth even in presence which is the more peaceful, our heart of that transcendent sky! A softened knows not, the lights or the shadows. strain arises in our memory—but it, Peaceful, too, the mountains all — too, deepens into sadness—and, but awake in the beauty of midnight—but for the Hope that keeps alive, would the clouds look as if they had taken darken into despair.

“ Blest be that hand Divine that gently laid
My heart at rest beneath this humble shed.
The world's a stately bark, on dangerous seas
With pleasure seen, but boarded at our peril;
Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore,
I hear the tumult of the distant throng,
As that of seas remoté, or dying storms:
And meditate on scenes more silent still,
Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of death.
Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut,
Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff,
Eager Ambition's fiery race I see ;
I see the circling haunt of noisy men,
Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right,
Pursuing and pursued, each other's prey ;
As wolves for rapine, as the fox for wiles,

Till Death, that mighty hunter, earth's them all." That impressive passage was awak- heart a higher_a holier strain ; and ened in our memory, perhaps, by one we can recite it without book-as we line,

have done a hundred times, when lone

lier than we are now, walking by our“ Here, like a shepherd gazing from his

selves, at miduight, along the mounhut."

tain ranges, and sometimes almost With the poem in our hand, and that afraid to gaze on the spiritual counte heaven overhead, we have now in our nance of the boundless sky.

" Oh, may I breathe no longer than I breathe
My soul in praise to Him, who gave my soul,
And all her infinite of prospect fair,
Cut through the shades of hell, great Love! by thee,
O most adorable ! most unadorned !
Where shall that praise begin which ne'er should end ?
Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause !
How is night's sable mantle labour'd o'er !
How richly wrought with attributes divine !
What wisdom shines! What love ! This midnight pomp,
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid !
Built with divine ambitionnought to thee ;
For others this profusion : Thou, apart,
Above ! beyond ! Ob, tell me, mighty Mind!
Where art thou? Shall I dive into the deep ?
Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds
For their Creator ? Shall I question loud
The thunder, if in that the Almighty dwells ?
Or holds he furious storms in straiten'd reins,
And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car?

" What mean these questions ?— Trembling I retract;
My prostrate soul adores the present God :
Praise I a distant Deity? He tunes
My voice (if tuned); the nerve, that writes, sustains ;
Wrapp'd in his being, I resound bis praise :
But, though past all diffused, without a shore
His essence, local is his throne (as meet),
To gather the dispersed (as standards call
The listed from afar); to fix a point,
A central point, collective of his sons ;
Since finite every nature but his own.

“ The nameless He, whose nod is nature's birth ;
And nature's shield, the shadow of his hand;
Her dissolution his suspended smile!
The great First-Last I pavilion'd high he sits
In darkness from excessive splendour born,
By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost.

His glory, to created glory, bright,
As that to central horrors : he looks down
On all that soars; and spans immensity.

“ Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view,
Boundless creation, what art thou ? A beam,
A mere effluvium of his majesty :
And shall an atom of this atom world
Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of beaven?
Down to the centre should I send my thought,
Through beds of glittering ore, and glowing gems :
Their beggar'd blaze wants lustre for my lay;
Goes out in darkness : if, on towering wing,
I send it through the boundless vault of stars ;
The stars, though rich, what dross their gold to Thee,
Great ! good ! wise! wonderful! eternal King!
If to those conscious stars thy throne around,
Praise ever pouring, and imbibing bliss ;
And ask their strain; they want it, more they want,
Poor their abundance, humble their sublime,
Languid their energy,

their ardour cold :
Indebted still, their highest rapture burns ;
Short of its mark, defective, though divine."

What a spence! Of the three- among the inclinations of any clachan the best is peat—then wood—then of rocks, and of all curtains the wild coal. Or what do you say to all three briar forms itself into the most gracetogether ? Extravagant-they devour fully festoon'd draperies, letting in one another—and though the light be green light alone from the intersected like that of Greek fire, and the power stars. Many a cave we know of_cool like that of alpha intensive, they burn by day and warm by night—where but to expire, and fiercely rush to no man but ourselves ever slept, or ashes. What hands unseen have ever will sleep-and sometimes on heaped our hearth? Brownie's. Ba- startling a doe at evening in a thicket, nished from the low countries he we have lain down in her lair, and in took to the hills-and, insulted among

our slumbers heard the rain pattering the hills, sought refuge among the on the roofing birk-tree, but felt not mountains. The race was never nu- one drop on our face till at dawning merous, and now must be thin—for we struck a shower of diamonds from they are all male—and they are not its fragrant tresses. Strange sights immortal. Or have the fairies heard and fair have we seen in such dormi. of our arrival ? Titania is a tidy crea

tories—and heard have we, too, strange ture—and though that is not the name

sounds and sweet; but the words we she bears in the Highlands, the same invented, to shadow out their looks queen reigns over all the silent people, and melodies, to you would have no from the tomans of Lorn and Locha- significance—and 'tis a language we ber, to the sparry caves of the Orient. speak but in dreams, and have taught Or what if it were the blind man's to the creatures of our dreams. Christian Flora-sitting up to serve

Have we been talking in our sleep ? the stranger—that stole for a minute Nay writing—and writing legibly too into the chamber—and having set all which is more than we can do when to rights, put by the auld ballad, lay awake - except to our good friends, down and fell asleep?

Ballantyne's most cunning of compoFortunate old man! in all our wan

sitors. Where is the Diamond ? In derings through the Highlands for

our hand to be sure-and our thumb sixty years (what is our age?), at to- at a passage that proves Young to fall of the day we have always found have been“a metaphysician and someourselves at home. What though thing more”—but your only Philoso.

here were no human dwellings on phers, after all, are the Poets. that side of the Loch, We cared “ Where thy true treasure ?" not-for we could find a bedroom

Seek it in thyself,
“ Seek in thy naked self, and find it there;

In being so descended, formed, endowed ;
Sky.born, sky-guided, sky-returning race !
Erect, immortal, rational, divine !
In senses, which inherit earth, and heavens ;
Enjoy the various riches nature yields ;
Far nobler ! give the riches they enjoy ;
Give taste to fruits ; and harmony to groves :
Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright sire ;
Take in at once the landscape of the world,
At a small inlet which a grain might close,
And half create the wondrous world they see.
Our senses, as our reason, are divine.
But for the magic organ's powerful charm,
Earth were a rude, uncoloured chaos still.
Objects are but the occasion ; ours the exploit;
Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint,
Which nature's admirable picture draws;
And beautifies creation's ample dome.
Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake,
Man makes the matchless image man admires.
Say, then, shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad,
Superior wonders in himself forgot,
His admiration waste on objects round,
When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees?
Absurd ! not rare ! so great, so mean, is man.

“ What wealth in senses such as these ! What wealth
In fancy, fired to form a fairer scene
Than sense surveys ! in memory's firm record,
Which, should it perish, could this world recall
From the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years ;
In colours fresh, originally bright,
Preserve its portrait, and report its fate !
What wealth in intellect, that sovereign power !
Which sense and fancy summons to the bar ;
Interrogates, approves, or reprehends ;
And from the mass those underlings import,
From their materials, sifted and refined,
And in truth's balance accurately weighed,
Forms art and science, government and law;
The solid basis, and the beauteous frame,
The vitals and the grace of civil life!
And manners (sad exception !) set aside,
Strikes out, with master band, a copy fair
Of his idea, whose indulgent thought
Long, long ere chaos teemed, planned human bliss.

• What wealth in souls that soar, dive, range around,
Disdaining limit, or from place or time;
And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear
The Almighty Fiat, and the trumpet's sound !
Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view
What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ;
Commanding with omnipotence of thought,
Creations new in fancy's field to rise !
Souls that can grasp whate'er the Almighty made,
And wander wild through things impossible !
What wealth, in faculties of endless growth,
In quenchless passions violent to crave,
In liberty to choose, in power to reach,
And in duration (how thy riches rise !)
Duration to perpetuate-boundless bliss !”

Perhaps the most delightful pas- “ The Task," with the picture of the sage, in the most delightful of all Happy Man,poems, is that in which Cowper closes

VOL, XLIV. NO. CCLXXVII.

2 P

peace, the fruit

" Whose life, even now,

And againShows something of that happier life to

“ His warfare is within. There unfatigued come ;

His fervent spirit labourş. There he fights, Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil

And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himstate,

self, Is pleased with it, and were he free to

And never-withering wreaths, compared choose,

with which, Would make his fate bis choice ; whom

The laurels that a Cæsar reaps are weeds." Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith,

So, too, 'tis like Young to speak Prepare for happiness ; bespeak him one of the world—the “ self-approving Content, indeed, to sojourn while he must Below the skies, but finding there his home." haughty world," “sweeping him witń

her rustling silks"-an image that There is a heavenly serenity shed perhaps had better been away, for over all the picture; of the life led though it pictures to our fancy the there; its paths are, indeed, the paths world, the personification of her as a of pleasantness, and its end is peace.

“ City Madam,” is felt by us to be

somewhat incongruous with the indi“ Stillest streams

viduality of the “ Happy Man " and Of water, fairest meadows,"

his absolute seclusion. But we must images at once its tranquillity, its not criticise Cowper. Who but he beauty, and its bounty ; and we sym- could have written, pathize with the Poet in his prayer,

“ Perhaps she owes, * So glide my life away!”

Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming "O blest retirement, friend to life's decline.” spring

And pleateous harvest, to the prayer be Cowper is one of the most original of Poets; and we do not know that he When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint

makes, has so much as even unconsciously Walks forth to meditate at even-tide, borrowed one felicitous word. But

And thinks on her, who thinks not for her. Young seems to have been one of his

self." few favourites ; and here there are, we think, touches like Young's.

Perhaps Wordsworth might; and “ The world o'erlooks him in her busy

indeed Wordsworth, in his

Old search

Cumberland Beggar," was indebted to Of objects, more illustrious in her view;

the close of the “ Task,” for some of And occupied as earnestly as she,

the thoughts and feelings too in that Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the affecting and elevating Poem. world.”

But here is Young's " Happy Man."

“ Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing less tban angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies ;
Like ships in sea, while in, above the world.

“ With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm;
All the black cares and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred and the slave,
A mingled mob! a wandering herd! he seos,
Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike !
His full reverse in all I What higher praise ?
What stronger demonstration of the right?

“ The present, all their care ; the future, his.
When public welfare calls, or private want,
They give to fame; his bounty he conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature ; his, exalt.
Mankind's esteem they court; and he, his own,
Theirs, the wild chase of false felicities;
His, the composed possession of the true,
Alike throughout is his consistent peace ;

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