sister arts do much to soften the asperities of life, and to adorn and humanize the mind will not be denied. But yet there are many serious and well-disposed persons, who are anxious to banish them entirely from the family circle, because they have been perverted and made to minister to the baser passions of our nature. Much, however, as we lament the prostitution of genius to unhallowed impulses, and acutely as we feel, when we see men, who should form and guide the taste, and lead the devotion of the age, wasting the divine gift that is within them, yet we cannot exclude poetry from the number of our enjoyments. It is true every moment of time is valuable, and that the Christian has too many serious things to engage his attention to idle away the precious current of existence, in reading the foolish tales, the sentimental effusions, or the exciting productions of many of our best poets. Yet there are hours, which cannot be more profitably employed than in reading the works of these poets, whose religious fervour and great genius will amply repay a careful, and even constant perusal.

The objections which have been urged against the use of poetry, as a vehicle for the conveyance of truth, would never have been made, had not the muse been more frequently engaged in the praises of vice, than in teaching virtue and religion. The sublime sentiments of Milton--the profound contemplations of Young-the truly evangelical enthusiasm of Cowper, and the tender and graceful effusions of many of the poets of the present day, prove, that poetry may be made a silent, yet most powerful agent in the diffusion of divine truth, and practically refute the assertion of Dr. John

son, that religion is not a fit subject for the muse. But did we need any refutation of the Doctor's assertion, we should point to the volumes of Mr. Robert Montgomery, as a sufficient proof that religion, instead of confining the excursions of the imagination, aids its flight, chastens and corrects its expressions, gives dignity to what is mean, and sublimity to what, in the hands of an irreligious poet, appears flat, stale, and unprofitable." There are many who have sung the praises of nature, and marked the changing seasons as they roll but it is he and he alone who connects these changes with an ever-watchful God, that stamps upon his works a dignity and importance before unfelt and before unseen.

He therefore is the true priest of nature, that leads us to look through nature up to nature's God, and while describing the mighty operations of an all wise Creator in the storm and tempest-in the calm and sunshine-in the enjoyments and troubles of this life, fixes our gaze upon him as the first great Cause, or, as Mr. Montgomery has beautifully said,

"There is a voiceless eloquence on earth, Telling of Him who gave her wonders birth,

And long may I remain the adoring child Of Nature's majesty, sublime or wild; Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea,

All take their terrors and their charms

from thee,

From thee, whose hidden but supreme controul,

Moves through the world, a universal soul."

The subject of our author's first poem is ample and sublime. It presents a varied and extensive field for the excursions of the imagination, for the display of eloquent and affecting description, for sublime and lofty

expressions, for holy and devout aspirations. And although we do not mean to assert that Mr. M. has fully succeeded in treating his subject to the extent of our expectations, (for here even the mightiest genius must fail,) yet he has brought together in his poem many new and beautiful ideas, clothed in elegant and expressive language. There is a freshness and originality in his descriptions of Nature, a purity of thought, and melody of versification, which remind us of the best days of English poetry. But what will endear his works to our readers, is that strain of fervent piety which pervades the whole. There is nothing here which can by any possibility raise a blush on the cheek of innocence, or offend even the most susceptible mind.

The following description of Night, from the first part of the Poem, is beautifully and elegantly written.

"Now, turn from earth to yonder

glorious sky

Th' imagin'd dwelling-place of Deity!
Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright,
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,
While half the world is lapp'd in downy
dreams,

And round the lattice creep your midnight beams,

How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes, In lambent beauty looking from the skies!

"And when, oblivious of the world, we stray

At dead of night along some noiseless

No stormy murmurs roll upon the waves; Nature is hush'd, as if her works adored, Still'd by the presence of her living Lord."--pp. 39, 40.

It is impossible to give even an analysis of the Poem, we must therefore content ourselves with a few more extracts. We select the description of a Village Sabbath, as being in unison with our own feelings, because we know it to be true.

"Emblem of peace! upon the village Thou dawn'st a blessing to the toil-worn plain swain;

Soon as thy smiles upon the upland play, His bosom gladdens with the bright'ning day;

Humble and happy, to his lot resign'd, He owns the inward sabbath of the mind.

"And when, with mingled sighs of love and fear,

His suppliant vows have wooed Jehovah's

ear,

Serene the thoughts that o'er his bosom steal,

As home he wanders for the Sabbath meal :

There shall kind Plenty wear her sweetest smiles;

There shall his rosy children play their

wiles;

And there the meek-ey'd mother muse and joy,

And court with frequent kiss her infant boy :

At noon, a ramble round the burial ground,

A moral tear on some lamented mound, Or breezy walk along the green expanse, Where summer beauty charms the ling'ring glance,

These are the wonted blessings of the day,

That all his weekly toils and woes repay: And when aëriel Night hath veil'd the view,

And star-gleams twinkle on the meadow dew,

Some elder boy beside his father's knee Shall stand and read the Holy History; Or peaceful prayer, or chanted hymn shall close

The hour that woos him to a sweet repose."-pp. 80, 81.

The third part of the Poem is more ambitiously written. The author attempts to reason, and

P

The Poem concludes with a description of the Last Judgment, drawn with a vigour and force of imagination which have rarely been. surpassed by any of our poets. At the end of this volume there are some smaller pieces, beautifully written, which would stamp Mr. M. as a genuine poet, had he written nothing else.

Mr.

We now turn to the second volume which stands at the head of this article, and with feelings of equal pleasure recommend it to the notice of our readers. M. has evidently surpassed himself in this production. There are passages in it of great sublimity and power, which alone would entitle Mr. M. to a high rank amongst our first poets. We confess we did not like the title, a Universal Prayer. We thought of the half Pagan, half Christian, prayer of Pope, and were afraid that Mr. M. might produce something of a similar kind. But we have been agreeably disappointed. Mr. M.'s prayer is the prayer of a Christian, and breathes an ardent spirit of true devotion. He has happily caught and blended together the sublime strains of the Hebrew bards, and the meekness and confidence of Christianity. The following is all we can find room for.

"To Thee, to Thee alone, pervading God,

The sum of human agonies is known: But wheresoe'er the race of Sorrow dwell,

There may Thy dews of mercy fall; refresh

The wither'd heart, relume the languid

eye

Of Want, and bid Misfortune smile again : And since from Thee the breath of Life

began,

And on each brow the seal of God is set! Oh! hear the bitter sighs of Thraldom breathed,

From morn to night, from out ten thousand hearts

Of agony to Thee! Awake! arise!
God of the slave and free! and disenthrall

crown,

When earth grows dim, and worldly joys decay,

Find Heaven advancing, as the World retires!"--pp. 19, 20.

With the exception of the slight error in this last passage, where the poet invokes God to dash away the chains of the slave and the free, it is faultless.

"Death" is, indeed, a powerful poem. The descriptions with which it abounds are appalling; here Mr. Montgomery seems to have put out all his strength to invest the grisly monarch in new terrors, The opening we think sublime.

"Throned in a vault where sleep departed kings, Behold the Tyrant of the World! Around His shadowy head he waves a sceptre,

made

Behind, INTEMP'RANCE, with unheedful face,

Complexion'd like the redden'd clouds that clasp

The dying sun; then ANGER, with a look

Of fury darted from her fearless eye, And TERROR, eloquently dumb,--appear.

"With step as noiseless as the summer air,

Who comes in beautiful decay?- her eyes

Dissolving with a feverish glow of light,
Her cheek a rosy tint, as if the tip
Her nostrils delicately closed, and on
Of Beauty's finger faintly press'd it
there,-

Alas! CONSUMPTION is her name. But, lo!

Sublime in aspect, and supreme in gait, Waving a crimson banner o'er his head, His task!--To shatter thrones, and sully With giant pace, stalks by terrific WAR! kings.

"To these sad ministers of Death, succeed

Of Maladies a hideous crew; not least Appalling, PESTILENCE, with eyes aghast, And FAMINE, wither'd to a woful form." Pp. 31--34.

Were mingled with the howl of hidden floods,

And Acherontine groans;--of all the host,

The only dauntless he. As o'er the wild He glanced, the pride of agony endured, Awoke, and writhed through all his giant frame,

That redden'd, and dilated, like a sun! Till moved by some remembered bliss, or joy

Of paradisal hours, or to supply
The cravings of infernal wrath, --he bade
The roar of Hell be hush'd, and silence
was!

He called the cursed,-and they flash'd from cave

And wild!-- from dungeon and from den they came,

And stood an unimaginable mass
Of spirits,agonized with sleepless pangs:-
In silence stood they, while the demon
gazed

On all, and communed with departed
Time,

From whence his vengeance such a harvest reap'd!

"Before him, what a congregated host Of perish'd creatures! sumless as the Lash'd into life from out the ocean-plain: Long ages gone, and they were breathing

waves,

airs

In

point out some of his defects. They are chiefly minor errors of composition and language. particular, we protest against the too frequent use of such words as these, "lawny," "gleamy," beamy," and many others. They may tend to soften the verse, but they emasculate the language. They are borrowed from a school which Mr. Montgomery should despise.

66

Alliteration also prevails too much, particularly in the Omnipresence of the Deity. This is a great fault, and one which may be easily avoided. There is also a too frequent recurrence to the same images and similes. In any other poet we should scarcely have noticed these things, but as we apprehend that Mr. M. will again come before the world, we hope he will avoid the de. fects we have pointed out, and by study and reflection make his works as perfect as possible. We trust, as he has begun his career in advocating the cause of religion and virtue, so he will end it, and that his next work may be still more mature in Christian piety. There are many passages in his poems which display great felicity of conception, strength and beauty of expression, as well as impassioned and ardent devotion; and although they are marked by inequality, yet this must be attributed to the irregularities of a young genius struggling to give expression to his lofty conceptions.

Memoirs and Select Remains of the late Rev. John Cooke. By George Redford, M. A. 14s. 602 pp. Hurst and Co. THE lives of great and good men, when judiciously and faithfully written, are unquestionably the most popular, engaging, and useful productions of of literature.