man,

works themselves will secure the correctness of our decision; and we are at last obliged to own that in the volumes of Sacred Lyrical Poetry that we have met with, there are much stronger indications of zeal than talent; more proofs of the piety of the heart, than of the inspiration of the mind. We give all possible credit to the pure motives and excellent intentions of these writers, but we must own that in many cases they appear to have mistaken religious feeling for poetical enthusiasm, and to have supposed that the warmth of their devotion would supply that which should have been bestowed by the fires of genius. If, however, we feel disappointed when viewing the progress which these writers have made towards the attainment of this object, we must attribute part of it, not only to the difficulty inherent in their undertaking, but to the injudicious manner in which they have proceeded. Their exertions have been too prolonged, their strength tasked beyond its powers. We wish that they had recollected the advice which the poet of the Georgics gives to the husbandrather to cultivate a small field with great care, than to aim at the possession of a great one. If they had been satisfied with the production of a smaller quantity of poetical material, if they had bestowed on this a higher finish, and united more solidity of matter to more lustre of surface; if they had more deeply studied the laws which govern this province of Poetry, and which enable it to gratify and delight; if they had reflected that in proportion as this subject presented greater difficulties, they must be met by increased exertion; that, if their efforts were bounded by narrow limits, and a less fertile territory, a greater elasticity and vigour should act against the compression:-had such been their views, though complete success, or the promise of an extended popularity could not be held out, yet they would in all probability have produced poems that would have delighted a numerous class of educated persons. We are not sure, also, whether modern Sacred Poetry does not disadvantageously feel the comparison which is necessarily though not intentionally made between it and the ancient. The tones struck from the Hebrew lyre are of the boldest kind;

:

its poetry highly figurative; its images prominent; its language raised with great majesty of expression, weight, and authority; in delivering its sentences of wisdom, full of metaphor; rich with allegory and comparison; and, though not possessing, like the Greeks, resources for illustration in the treasures of their brilliant and ingenious mythology, yet finding a compensation in the grandeur, variety, freshness, and exactness of their allusions to natural objects, and the scenes of pastoral life. That fine mystic allegory, the Song of Solomon, owes its chief beauty to the exquisite selection of the images which it has drawn from the lap of Nature, to strew over its fable. The devotional odes or hymns of Moses, of Deborah, and of David, have a character of high inspiration; and when we read the poetical parts of other writers in Scripture, when we find them rejoicing over the miracle that has but just passed away; or, through the opening veil of prophecy, pointing to the awful destinies that approach; we then feel that the religious poetry of Scripture rose sublime upon the grandeur of its subject; and that the deep im pressions which it has left, have rendered it more difficult for the modern poet, deprived of such assistance, to produce an effect upon our excited minds.

Another class of poetry ranges itself under the term of Sacred, which has been far more fruitful of works of

genius, the area of whose utility and delight is more extended, which includes some of the advantages of devotional song, with all the attractions of that whose subjects are unlimited. Of this kind are the severe and magnificent creations of Dante, the epic of Tasso, the Paradise Lost and Regained of Milton, with others (like Cowley's) of lesser note; and, in later days, the Messiah of Klopstock, and the Calvary of Cumberland. If the purpose of poetry is to convey instruction with delight; if instruction gains a more easy entrance into our minds by arriving in an oblique direction; if we may gather through analogies and associations much that we should have refused in a more obvious and didactic form; if well-chosen incident, well-developed character, and well-described passion, may be made the vehicles of our improvement; it

is obvious that such poems as these, through channels now direct, now indirect, as change of subject or circumstance allow, may be made the means of infusing into the mind the finest maxims of piety, of inforcing the severest precepts of morality, and inspiring the purest feelings of devotion. The path of Poetry is to arrive at the abode of Reason through the avenues of the Heart; to deposit as it were in the mind, that immortal egg from which the twin-forms of beauty and purity proceed, leaving our moral feelings and our virtuous sympathies, and our best principles, to preserve and protect them. What a succession of such scenes does the Paradise Lost of Milton present! What extensive fields of noble thought are there traversed! What shifting scenes of passion are displayed! What lessons of duty, and what maxims of wisdom, are there inculcated! Every moral virtue is set off in its brightest colours; every religious feeling traced to its purest sources; every deviation from duty pursued to its fatal results. The call upon our sympathies is always true as it is powerful, and that one character that in any hands but Milton's would have only excited horror and disgust, produces its proper effect upon the mind through sorrow and fear. He must be dull of heart indeed, who does not carry with him reflections such as the deepest philosophy would recognize, adorned and recommended by all the brightest poetry could bestow. What glowing contrasts, what exalted images, what finished descriptions; how fine in taste, how ingenious in thought! Every sentiment of religious veneration heightened by every form of poetical excellence, from the first scene that opened on the purity of Eden, till the gates of Paradise closed upon the guilty father of mankind. Benhall.

J. MITFORD.

(To be continued.)

Mr. URBAN, July 10. AFTER what has been done for St. Saviour's Church by the Lady Chapel Committee, it is a matter of surprise that no steps have been taken by the parish to preserve and secure the Nave, which still remains uncovered, and

exposed to the injurious effects of the weather. The portion of the church still used for divine service is separated from the roofless nave by a screen of boards, scarcely sufficient to keep out the weather; and if measures are not speedily taken for the security and preservation of the nave, all that has been done all the money which has been expended on the Choir, the Transept, and the Lady Chapel-may be done and expended in vain. If the nave remains as it does, another winter will no doubt see this large portion of the structure a complete ruin; and if the nave be removed, what degree of stability can be ensured to the choir? The cruciform disposition of the church, having a tower in the centre, of great weight, will, like all buildings of this form, remain stable whilst the entire structure is kept up; but destroy the nave, the arcades of which act as a counter-force against the thrust occasioned by the central tower, what stability can be ensured to the choir? We have lately seen that a portion of the central tower of Bristol Cathedral has given way, and that in consequence divine service has been suspended. It is obvious that this accident arose from the want of a sufficient buttress against the western pier of the structure. A like cause will, at St. Saviour's, produce the like effect. Why then are not measures taken to prevent the possibility of such an accident occurring there? There cannot be a better time to agitate the question in the parish than at present. The spirit of opposition which for merly existed, has, since the progress of the Lady Chapel, nearly subsided; and, on the whole, a better feeling perhaps never will exist upon the subject than at present. The question of the amount of the requisite rates ought not to be taken into consideration in this parish; for it is to be recollected, that the parishioners are not subject to tithes. I hope, therefore, that this notice will be the means of causing the adoption of some measures for the restoration of this dilapidated portion of the structure. The press has effected much for the Lady Chapel; let us hope it will be equally successful in the cause of the Nave.