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the dictates of elder saints and sages, and submit his novelties to the authority and censure of his superiors-such ardour of fancy might have led him into dangerous errors, or have estrayed him too far from the active duties, the practical wisdom of life, and its dull and painful realities and, on the other hand, his logic and learning-his veneration for antiquity and precedent-and his monastic notions of obedience in matters of faith as well as doctrine-might have fettered the energies of a less ardent mind, and weighed him down into an intolerant opposer of all unaccustomed truths, and in his own practice a superstitious formalist. Happily, however, for himself and the world, Taylor was neither an enthusiast nor a bigot: and if there are some few of his doctrines from which our assent is withheld by the decisions of the Church and the language of Scripture,-even these (while in themselves they are almost altogether speculative, and such as could exercise no injurious influence on the essentials of faith or the obligations to holiness,) may be said to have a leaning to the side of piety, and to have their foundation in a love for the Deity, and a desire to vindicate his goodness, no less than to excite mankind to aspire after greater degrees of perfection.

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"In the lessons which flow from this chair, in the incense which flames on this altar, the sound of tvorldly polemics is hushed, the light of worldly fires become dim. We see a saint in his closet, a Christian Bishop in his ministry; and we rise from the intercourse impressed and softened with a sense how much our own practice yet needs amendment, and how mighty has been that faith of which these are the fruits, that hope of which these are the pledges and prelibations. Of the broader and more general lines of Taylor's literary character, a very few observations may be sufficient: the greatness of his attainments and the powers of his mind, are evident in all his writings, and to the least attentive of his readers. It is hard to point out a branch of learning or of scientific pursuit to which he does not occasionally allude or any author of eminence, either ancient or modern, with whom he does not evince himself acquainted. And it is certain, that as very few other writers have had equal riches to display, so he is apt to display his stores with a lavish exuberance, which the severer taste of Hooker or of Barrow would have condemned as ostentatious, or rejected as cumbersome. Yet he is far from a mere reporter of other men's arguments, a textuary of fathers and schoolmen-who resigns his reason into the hands of his predecessors, and who employs no other instrument for convincing their readers than a lengthened string of authorities. His familiarity with the stores of ancient and modern literature is employed to illustrate more frequently than to establish his positions; and may be traced, not so much in direct citation, (though of this too, there is, perhaps, more than sufficient,) as in the abundance of his allusions, the character of his imagery, and the frequent occurrence of terms of foreign derivation, or employed in a foreign and unusual meaning.

"On the other hand, few circumstances can be named which so greatly contribute to the richness of his matter, the vivacity of his style, and the harmony of his language, as those copious drafts on all which is wise, or beautiful, or extraordinary, in ancient writers, or in foreign

tongues; and the very singularity and hazard of his phrases has not unfrequently a peculiar charm, which the observers of a tamer and more ordinary diction can never hope to inspire.

"It is on devotional and moral subjects, however, that the peculiar character of his mind is most, and most successfully, developed. To this service he devotes his most glowing language: to this his aptest illustrations: his thoughts and his words at once burst into a flame when touched by the coals of this altar; and whether he describes the duties, or dangers, or hopes of man, or the mercy, power, and justice of the Most High; whether he exhorts or instructs his brethren, or offers up his supplications in their behalf to the common Father of allhis conceptions and his expressions belong to the loftiest and most sacred description of poetry; of which they only want what they cannot be said to need, the name and the metrical arrangement.

"It is this distinctive excellence, still more than the other qualifications of learning and logical acuteness, which has placed him, even in that age of gigantic talent, on an eminence superior to any of his immediate contemporaries, which has exempted him from the comparative neglect into which the dry and repulsive learning of Andrews and Sanderson has fallen ;-which has left behind the acuteness of Hales, and the imaginative and copious eloquence of Bishop Hall, at a distance hardly less than the cold elegance of Clark, and the dull good sense of Tillotson; and has seated him, by the almost unanimous estimate of posterity, on the same lofty elevation with Hooker and with Barrow.

"Of such a triumvirate, who shall settle the precedence? Yet it may, perhaps, be not far from the truth, to observe, that Hooker claims the foremost rank in sustained and classic dignity of style, in political and pragmatrical wisdom; that to Barrow the praise must be assigned of the closest and clearest views, and of a taste the most controlled and chastened; but that in imagination, in interest, in that which more properly and exclusively deserves the name of genius, Taylor is to be placed before either. The first awes most, the second convinces most, the third persuades and delights most: and (according to the decision of one whose own rank among the ornaments of English literature yet remains to be determined by posterity) Hooker is the object of our reverence, Barrow of our admiration, and Jeremy Taylor of our love.”

In our next Article, the eloquence of the 18th century will lead us into the consideration of the living Masters of Pulpit Oratory.

ART. V.-Lives of Sacred Poets. By ROBERT ARIS WILLMOTT, Esq., Trinity College, Cambridge. Published under the direction of the Committee of General Literature and Education, appointed by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. Second Series. London: Parker. 1838.

HAVING, in a former volume, presented a Biographical and Critical View of English Sacred Poetry during the reigns of Elizabeth, James, and Charles I. the author proceeds, in the

present series, to complete his survey of this interesting portion of our Literature by an examination of the Poets of the latter part of the 17th, the 18th, and the beginning of the 19th centuries. The various paths, he observes, sometimes verdant and sunny, sometimes entangled and gloomy, through which the reader's footsteps have been conducted, seem to terminate before that magnificent structure which Milton consecrated to Poetry and Religion. The volume accordingly opens with a memoir of that great poet, in which the writer has given a clear and popular history of his conduct during one of the most eventful periods of our history, interspersed with running notes upon his literary productions, and illustrations of his political and poetical character. In the statement of circumstances so familiar to biography, much novelty could not be expected; but the remarks upon the writers of blank verse, who preceded Milton, seem to us ingenious and just.

If the poetry of Milton, is the observation of Johnson, be examined with regard to the pauses and flow of his verses into each other, it would appear that he has performed all that our language would admit; and the comparison of his numbers with those who have cultivated the same manner of writing, will show that he excelled as much in the lower as in the higher parts of his art, and that his skill in harmony was not less than his invention or his learning. Lord Byron, indeed, imagined that the "Paradise Lost" might have been "more nobly conveyed to posterity" in the stanza of Spenser or Tasso, or the terza-rima of Dante, and he regretted that the Seasons had not been written in rhyme. The author proceeds to review the refinement of our Poetry:

Neither Johnson, nor any other of the poet's biographers, has noticed the progress of English versification. Dr. Nott, in the dissertation prefixed to his edition of the "Remains of Surrey, seems to have established three points respecting our versification, as settled by Chaucer; first, that it was decasyllabic; secondly, that it was rhythmical; thirdly, that, like the old Alexandrine system, it admitted of redundant and defective lines. He carries his investigation rapidly over the intermediate productions of Hoccleve, Lydgate, Hawes, Barclay, and Skelton, to the appearance of the Earl of Surrey, to whom we owe the introduction of Heroick Blank Verse. Warton's conjecture, that he might have borrowed the invention from the Italian Liberata of Trissino, Dr. Nott refutes by an appeal to chronology. The translation of the second and fourth books of the Eneid are very pleasing specimens of poetic fancy, harmonzing and colouring the language. Nott quotes, with very high com

The

mendation, Simon's Address to Priana, as remarkably beautiful in the artificial arrangement of the pauses, the disposition of the periods, and the pervading air of truth and innocence. description of the Ghost of Creusa vanishing from the eyes of Eneas possesses equal merit. One or two shorter extracts will

be sufficient for our purpose:

"So shalt thou reach at last Hesperian land,

Where Lydian Tiber, with his gentle stream,

Mildly doth flow along the fruitful fields.".-B. xi. 1. 103. And again in the portrait of the disconsolate and enamoured Dido:

"And when they all were gone,

And the dim moon doth oft withhold her light,
And sliding stars unto sweet sleep provoke,
Alone she mourns within her palace void,
And sits her down on her forsaken bed,
And absent him she hears."-B. iv. l. 100.

Or in a bolder and more energetic strain:

"With this the young men's courage did increase :
And through the dark-like to the ravening wolves,
Whom raging fury of their hungry maws

Drives from their dens-leaving with hungry throats

Their whelps behind-among our foes we ran."-B. ii. 1.455. In these lines considerable skill and ingenuity are displayed. Surrey's invention, to follow and adopt the author's statement, did not languish; other writers soon assisted in placing "our national poetry in the fairest and rightest way towards perfection." Of these, Grimvald occupies the first place, in point of time, though not of merit. Nott speaks of him slightingly; but Crowe considers that to more flowing numbers than his predecessors, he joined the improvement of breaking the sentence at the end of a line. Grimvald was followed by Sackville, a writer whose powerful genius has obtained the applause of Sidney, of Pope, and of Gray. The tragedy of Gorbuduc appeared about five years after the publication of Surrey's Translations of Virgil. In the following passage, although far from being the most harmonious or beautiful in the drama, we see the structure of his versification:

"The silent night that brings the quiet pause
From painful travails of the weary day,

Prolongs my careful thoughts, and makes me blame
The slow Aurore, that so for love or shame

Doth long delay to show her blushing face;
And how the day renews my grieful plaint."

Crowe observes that the verses of Sackville are generally

separated from each other by a point or pause at the end of each. This is accomplished, he says, by taking two nouns substantive, and fitting such an adjective to each as the measure requires; these, with the necessary particles, complete the line.

The Steel Glass of Gascoigne, in 1576, continues the list of our early writers of blank verse. He resembled Surrey, in closing his lines with polysyllables; as in the concluding part of the picture of a good clergyman:

"O gracious God! I see now what they be!
These be thy priests divorced from the world,
And wedded yet to heaven and holiness;
Which are not proud, nor covet to be great,
Which go not gay nor covet to be rich,
Which envy not, nor know what malice means;
Which cannot feign, which hate hypocrisy ;
Which never saw Sir Simony's deceits;

Which preach of peace, which carp contentions;
Which loiter not, but labour all the year."

The tale of the Two Swans, continues Mr. Willmott, by W. Vallens, 1592, occupies the next place. But a finer spirit of music was beginning to manifest itself among the dramatic writers. Campbell was certainly unwarranted in asserting the David and Bethsabe of Peele to be the earliest fountain, either of pathos or harmony, in the poetry of our stage, but it undoubtedly contained passages of more polished elegance than had hitherto appeared. Two specimens from this graceful drama will show that Peel could write with ease and sweetness:

"May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight
Be still enamelled with discoloured flowers;

That precious fount bear sand of purest gold;
And, for the pebbles, let the silver streams,
That pierce earth's bowels, to maintain the source.
Play upon rubies, sapphires, chrysolites :
The brims let be embraced with golden curls
Of moss that sleeps with sound the waters make,
For joy to feed the fount with their recourse;
Let all the grass that beautifies her bower
Bear manna every morn instead of dew,

Or let the dew be sweeter far than that

That hangs, like chains of pearl, on Hermon-hill."-Act i, s. 5. "Come, gentle Zephyr, tricked in those perfumes

That erst in Eden sweeten'd Adam's love
And stroke my bosom with thy gentle fan.
This shade, sun-proof, is yet no proof for thee:
Thy body smoother than this waveless spring,
Can creep through that, his lances cannot pierce,
Thou and thy sister, soft and sacred air,

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