parted friend, before he takes up his abode in the tomb, and is to be seen no more on earth, do we not put the Night Thoughts in our pocket to assist us to chase away the shadows of darkness, and to open up a vista to other worlds? Young was not forever weeping over departed kindred, for in his old age he was found writing one of the most lively works in the English language. In fact he produced two of this character. "The Centaur not fabulous," and "Conjectures on Original Compositions." The latter of these works was written when the author was turned of eighty years of age. If his mind at noon-day was gloomy and dark, his setting sun was brilliant and lovely. There were a cluster of wits, poets, and fine writers, at the commencement of the eighteenth century. Thomas Parnell, the author of that beautiful vindication of the inscrutable ways of providence, the Hermit. He truly was a sweet poet. Dr. Arbuthnot, the friend of Pope and physician to Queen Anne, was a man of taste and learning. He wrote upon weights and measures, a very difficult subject, and also upon coins, a very curious one; besides several excellent works in his profession were from his pen. Gay was of the same age of Pope; born the same year. He wrote poetry with simplicity and elegance, and showed as much as any poet of his time a good taste for the beauties of his mother tongue. His fables are in the hands of all our children, and are full of moral instruction for all ages. Of Swift it is difficult to speak. His genius was not inferior to any of the great men of his time. His learning was extensive. His language was pure, sim ple, and tasteful, but it sometimes covered thoughts that had better never have been expressed. Bolingbroke was among the most elegant prose writers of that period. He wrote with a lofty spirit, and would be more known than he is, if he had not left a tinge of infidelity in his works. Sir William Temple, who died in 1700, left several works that should be read for correctness and elegance. The English language has changed but little since the time of these distinguished men. They have been standards for the last century. They are quoted by all the compilers of dictionaries, as authority, and will hold their weight and respectability forever. The additions that have been made to the English language have effected no change with them. There is hardly a word used at the period we are now speaking of, by these learned men, that has grown obsolete. Dr. Watts is a name dear to every pious mind in this country, and should not be forgotten in our hasty sketches of those who have added to or purified the currents of English literature. Watts was a man of genius and learning. He wrote books for colleges and for mature minds, and would have been distinguished in any of the higher branches of science, had he confined himself to them; and the specimens he has given us of his powers in lyric poetry, prove that if he had devoted much attention to it, he would certainly have excelled; but a sense of duty led him to write for the improvement of his flock, of all ages, rather than for fame. He sung the lullaby for infancy, and poured wholesome truths into the humble minds of those "proud science never taught to strau.” In prose and verse, he labored to enlighten the ignorant and warm the cold. His psalms and hymns, if not of the first grade of poetry, are full of the oil of sanctity. Such men, if they do not burn with a fierce and dazzling flame to astound their contemporaries, or to excite the admiration of after ages, yet they shed a mild and lasting light of hope and life on those about them, and on those who follow them. They し "Allure to brighter worlds and lead the way." THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER. Why should our joys transform to pain? A plague of iron prove? Bendysh, 'tis strange the charm that binds In vain I sought the wond'rous cause, Then deep in thought, within my breast O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide, (Sweet rapture of my mind!) Till on the banks of Ganges' flood, Hard by, a venerable priest, Risen with his god, the sun, from rest, Awoke his morning song; Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream; “He sang th' eternal rolling flame, 66 "Does all our minds compose: But shaped in twice ten thousand frames: "Thence differing souls of differing names, "And jarring tempers, rose. 66 The mighty power that form'd the mind "One mould for every two design'd, "And bless'd the new-born pair: "This be a match for this (he said) "Then down he sent the souls he made, "To seek them bodies here: "But parting from their warm abode "They lost their fellows on the road, "And never join'd their hands. "Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates! Our eastern souls have dropp'd their mates "On Europe's barb'rous lands. "Happy the youth that finds his bride "Whose birth is to his own ally'd, "The sweetest joy of life: "But oh the crowds of wretched souls "Fetter'd to minds of different moulds, "And chain'd t' eternal strife!" Thus sang the wondrous Indian bard; "Sure then (I cried) might I but see "Some courteous angel tell me where, "What distant lands this unknown fair, "Or distant seas detain? "Swift as the wheel of nature rolls "I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls, "And wear the joyful chain." CHAPTER IV. THE tone of English literature at this period can be traced in no small degree to a few fashionable writers, among whom Lord Lyttelton and the Earl of Chesterfield shone conspicuous. Through their influence literary pursuits became current in the higher circles of society. Lyttelton was a scholar of most exquisite taste; his writings were all highly polished, but they were more refined than impassioned, more delicate and sentimental than deep and philosophical, still there was much good sense in whatever he wrote. In parliament he was eloquent and honest, and loved to speak his mother tongue. In early life he wandered into the mazes of infidelity, but was not suffered to be entangled there long before the clue was given him to find his way out of darkness to the light. His treatise |