it was delivered, must have been considerable. We are happy that it has been committed to the press.

ART. 9. A few plain Thoughts on the Liturgy of the Church of England. By the Rev. C. Daubeny, LL.B. Archdeacon of Sarum. Svo. 40 pp. 9d. Robinson. 1814.

Of the many publications which exist, commendatory of our inestimable Liturgy, we know of none more calculated to produce a beneficial effect upon the mind of every class of readers, than the one now before us. It speaks to the understanding and to the heart, in that simple, but energetic language, which the highest cannot read without feeling its force, nor the lowest without comprehending its meaning. It is both spiritual and practical. We earnestly recommend it to the notice of every Clergyman, to whom is entrusted the care of a populous parish, particularly if the majority of his flock consist of what is termed the "better sort of people." Every portion of the Church service is explained in its proper order, and the most useful directions are afforded for their application to the soul of the hearer, that while he draws nigh with his lips, his heart also may approach the Lord. To give our readers some idea of the plan which the Archdeacon has adopted, we shall extract his directions for hearing and receiving the Absolution.

"The ABSOLUTION which succeeds to the Confession is to be pronounced by the Priest alone standing. And he pronounces it in that attitude, because he then speaks with authority; standing before the people as the Ambassador for Christ to his Church; pronouncing in his name pardon and remission of sins to the weary and heavy laden, on the conditions of the Gospel Covenant; namely, repentance from dead works, faith in a crucified Saviour, together with a sincere endeavour, by divine assistance," that his life hereafter may be pure and holy, so that at last he may come to God's eternal joy." And this pardon the penitent and believing Christian receives on his knees, in humble acknowledgment of the free grace of God towards him in Christ, and of his own utter unworthiness. In consequence of this Absolution pronounced in God's name by his appointed Minister, the humble and sincere penitent may consider himself as restored to that state of grace and acceptance into which he was admitted by the Sacrament of Baptism; and that he still continues to be what he was then made, the adopted Child of God through Jesus Christ. In this renewed character he proceeds with confidence to address himself to God as his loving Father, in that excellent prayer which Christ himself dictated to his Disciples. This prayer, commonly called the Lord's Prayer, belonging equally to Minister and people, is consequently to be pronounced audibly by both. And that this prayer, by the

frequent

frequent repetition of it, may not be degraded into a lifeless forth it is necessary that you enter into the fuil meaning of the several petitions contained in it; in which case you will repeat it with reve rence, and not fail to derive from it that spiritual consolation, which through grace it was intended to convey." P. 14.

For this, as for every other labour of its pious, manly, and judicious author, every member of our Church is under the greatest obligation.

POETRY.

ART. 10. Individuality; or the Causes of Reciprocal Misapprehension. In six Books. Illustrated with Notes. By Martha Ann Sellon. Svo. pp. 438. Baldwin.

There are, we believe, many persons who look with an envious eye on the prerogatives of Reviewers. To those persons, the privilege of using the regal wE, and of sitting in judgment, appears to be a privilege of high consideration and value. But they little know that Reviewers, like many other folks in elevated and envied stations, too often find that their office does not, by its supposed dignity, sufficiently compensate for the numerous troubles and annoyances to which it inevitably exposes them. To say nothing of the disagreeableness of passing a severe sentence upon an offender, dull, but, perhaps, otherwise estimable; few can conceive the sad misgivings and fears which, at least twelve times in the year, we are doomed to experience. How often, on opening the monthly parcel, does a shudder creep over us, at the bare idea of the heavy drafts on our patience which are likely to be made by the volumes before us. This shudder is

particularly prompted by the sight of verse; which, if bad, and the chances are ten to one that it will be so, is infinitely less supportable than the most wretched prose. But, when the task of reading comes!" Aye! there's the rub!"

That task we have just performed, and are scarcely recovered from it. One of greater difficulty and oppressiveness we never encountered. We have waded through a volume of between four and five hundred pages, containing, we suppose, more than eight thousand lines; all of which lines are destitute of melody, poetical imagery, and frequently, indeed, even of an obvioust meaning. "A mighty maze, and quite without a plan." The opening lines of Mrs. Sellon's composition, though they did not give any favourable omen with respect to her poetry, led us to believe that we should undoubtedly have the consolation of be ing able to understand her; that she would make up to us in sense, what she was deficient in sound. The delusion, however, Pp

VOL. II. NOVEMBER, 1814

did

in every

vido at basildan sortiengo ei tusseng she wanders, a chartered libertine," Monks, Nuns, melancholy madness, and Ph

ld of

38111 903

direction. From Physicians, she jumps to Lord Wellington and Cowper; thence to the Inquisition and an Auto de Fé, and so unnaturally, to the regions of eternal torment, where she expatiates for a considerable time. Ps and next, not quite so u Escaped from those se gloomy realms, sh she visits the Mahometans and Jews; then, flying to Hindostan,, descants largely on Bramins, Jaggernaut, and Hindoo sacrifices takes wing to England, and alights in the midst of the Bible and Prayer B Book Societies, each of which she justly eulog eulogizes, and, finally, rests with the Millennium. All 220319 All these subjects, s, and many more, far from being closely linked in a in artful union, are strung together, with little connexion with as as there is in the packthread full of eggs, which some unlucky boy has purloined from the nests s of half a dozen different species of birds. There is just as little order, or, more correctly speaking, as much disorder, in her couplets; ; the major part of which may be inverted without yee inverted without any injury to the sense. In short, the whole is nothing less Jess than confusion worse confounded an interminable, barren waste of verse, undecked by even a single poetical flower, unillumined by the e ray of of even a single poetical glow-worm. sob of me tot vise son ef All this may y seem exceedingly severe. In stating it, however, we have performed a Sellon we believe to be a thoroughly pious and benev a duty, certainly an unpleasant one. Mrs. benevolent woman; and we should have been happy could we honestly have praised her book. Bat her very piety furnishes a reason for our speaking plainly, with respect to her poem. She must know, or she ought to know, that to write on religion in an awkward and ludicrous manner, is to degrade it in the eyes of many; and thus to afford scoffers an opportunity, of which they will not fail to profit. Words have but too much mfluence on things; and, therefore, a religious writer ought to take especial care that his language, instead of being mean and ridiculous, should have an elevation and dignity, proportioned, in some degree at least, to the solemnity and the momentous importance of religion itself.

ART. 11. Terrors of Imagination, and other Poems. By John William Smith. pp. 143. Small 8vo. Cradock and de Joy.

The writers of verse are become as as numerous as "leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa," and the works twentieths of these writers sink to the ground, and are forgotten, almost as speedily as the withered foliage of autumn. of autumn. We We cannot enough wonder at the boldness with which, in defiance of the scourges wielded by the critics, and formidable Bills of stationers and printers, rhymer after rhymer hurries for

ward

ward, to present his compositions to the public, and to oblivion Like Dogberry, they find in their hearts, too, to bestow all their tediousness upon us; and every corner of their desks is cleared out, that not a precious morsel may be fost. Few indeed have the forbearance of Mr. Smith, who, in the volume before us, has given only the first book of his Terrors of Imagination; keeping back the other three, "that he might not tire the patience of his reader, nor subject the reviewer to the trouble of perusing four books of a poem, when even one might be unworthy of notice." For this forbearance we thank him; and will requite his kind'ness by a word or two of good advice. In the first place, we advise him not to publish the remainder of his Terrors. He is not a poet: he is merely a versifier, sometimes bearable, but never more than bearable. Should he, however, as is most pro'bable, not think fit to take our advice, we recommend, as worthy of introduction into one of his three books, the terror which critics feel at the prospect of being compelled to read more compositions from a writer, of whose incapacity they have already had lamentable proof. Our second word of advice is of a more serious kind than our first. We advise him not to disgrace himself by trifling, to say no worse, with morality and religion. It is not seemly for a man to declare, that love is of more utility thau religion; nor do we think that much credit will be gained by such language as the following, which, though not otherwise guiltless, is certainly guiltless of any poetical spirit.

Then, CYTHEREA, let me be
Thro' life devoted unto thee;
And while thy joys possessing,
Enraptur'd with celestial bliss,
Tell thee in many a balmy kiss,
How I enjoy the blessing!

And when I die, oh let my soul be set
In the sweet paradise of Mahomet!"

ART. 12. Canting: a Poem, interspersed with Tales: and additional Scraps. Crown Svo. pp. 193. Whittingham and Arliss.

Canting is such a prolific subject, that the circumstance of the present author having written only a middling sized volume on it, may almost be considered as a proof, that he has left much unsaid. His fault, however, if it be a fault, is such as can easily be forgiven by reviewers-men who, more than any other, feel all the truth of the adage, that "a great book is a great evil." The author of "Canting,” evidently possesses a respectable por tion of wit and talent. He too often falls into the slip-shod style; but, on the whole, his poem may be read with pleasure. His

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