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This univerfe, and all created things:
One foot he center'd, and the other turn'd
Round through the vaft profundity obfcure,
And faid, thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy juft circumference, O World.

The defcription he has given us of the angel Raphael is likewife nobly conceived, and finely delineated.

-Six wings he wore, to shade

His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each fhoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breast
With regal ornament; the middle pair
Girt like a ftarry zone`his waift, and round
Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold
And colours dipp'd in heav'n; the third his feet
Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail,
Sky-tinctur'd grain! Like Maia's fon he stood,
And fhook his plumes, that heav'nly fragrance fill'd
The circuit wide.

There is fomething fingularly fublime and beautiful in the following paffage, tranfcribed from a poem, entituled, The Omniscience of the divine Being, by Mr. Smart.

When Philomela, ere the cold domain

Of crippled winter 'gins t' advance, prepares
Her annual flight, and in some poplar shade
Takes her melodious leave, who then's her pilot?
Who points her paffage thro' the pathless void
To realms from us remote, to us unknown ?
Her fcience is the fcience of her God.

Not the magnetic index to the north

E'er afcertains her courfe, nor buoy, nor beacon.
She, heav'n-taught voyager, that fails in air,
Courts nor coy weft nor eaft, but inftant knows
What NEWTON or not fought, or fought in vain *.
Illuftrious name, irrefragable proof

Of man's vaft genius, and the foaring foul!
Yet what wert thou to him, who knew his works,
Before creation form'd them, long before

He measur'd in the hollow of his hand
Th' exulting ocean, and the highest heav'ns
*The Longitude.

He comprehended with a fpan, and weigh'd
The mighty mountains in his golden scales:
Who fhone fupreme, who was himself the light,
E'er yet refraction learn'd her skill to paint,
And bend athwart the clouds her beauteous bow.

It would here be unpardonable to pass over all those sublime and animated descriptions we have of the Morning; which the writers of heroic and tragic poetry have labour'd fo much to heighten and variegate, that one would think they had exerted their utmost skill and genius, to see who could render that season the most endearing.

Homer leads the way, and by a beautiful and well-conceived fiction, describes the morning as a goddess arrayed in a faffron robe, flying in the air, and with her rofy fingers unbarring the gates of light. She leaves the bed of Tithon her lover, arifes from the fea in a golden throne to usher in the fun, or in a chariot drawn by celestial horses, bearing with her the day, and is preceded by a ftar, which is her harbinger, and gives fignal of her approach.

Virgil follows Homer, and never lofes fight of him, as will appear by the following defcriptions.

Aurora now had left her faffron bed,

And beams of early light the Heav'ns o'erspread.

The morn began from Ida to display

Her rofy cheeks, and phosphor led the day.

And now the rofy morn began to rise,

And wav'd her faffron ftreamer thro' the skies.

Now rose the ruddy morn from Tithon's bed,
And with the dawn of day the skies o'erspread;
Nor long the fun his daily courfe with-held,
But added colours to the world reveal'd.

The morn enfuing from the mountain's height
Had scarcely spread the skies with rofy light;
Th' ethereal courfers, bounding from the fea,
From out their flaming noftrils breath'd the day.

Tao had moft probably Homer or Virgil in view when he wrote the following lines:

C

The purple morning left her crimson bed,

And donn'd her robes of pure vermilion hue;
Her amber locks she crown'd with roses red,
In Eden's flow'ry gardens gather'd new.

And Spenfer, who excels in defcription, has the fame fort of images diverfified.

Now when the rofy-finger'd morning fair,
Weary of aged Tithon's faffron bed,
Had fpread her purple robes thro' dewy air,
And the high hills Titan discovered;
The royal virgin fhook off drowsy head,
And rifing forth out of her bafer bower,
Look'd for her knight-

-The day forth-dawning from the east,
Night's humid curtains from the heav'ns withdrew,
And early calling forth both man and beast,

Commanded them their daily works renew.

Milton's defcriptions of the Morning are exquifitely drawn ; and though he has departed as much as poffible from the beaten track, yet fome traces of the former poets may be evidently seen.

Now morn her rofy steps in th' eastern clime
Advancing, fow'd the earth with orient pearl.

The morn,

Wak'd by the circling hours, with rofy hand
Unbarr'd the gates of light-

-And now went forth the morn,
Such as in highest heav'n, array'd in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanish'd night,

Shot thro' with orient beams

No descriptions of the morning can be more animated and fublime than those of SHAKESPEAR; yet his thoughts bear great affinity to the preceding.

Look where the morn in ruffet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eaftern hill.
Look, Love, what envious ftreaks

Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder eaft.
Night's tapers are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

Thefe paffages may be justly rank'd among grand and fublime thoughts; and though the out-lines feem to have been drawn by Homer, on which they have run their several divifions, yet they have all acquitted themselves, so as to obtain the applause of the learned and judicious; for men of judgment will ever confider that nature is still the fame, and that where the fame object is to be described, the fame thoughts, and often the fame words, will occur, if the descriptions are just and natural.

We have attributed the first inftance of defcribing the morning in this beautiful manner to Homer, yet it is to be obferv'd, that there is much of this fublime imagery in the facred writings, from whence fome hints may probably have been taken. Thus it is faid of the fun, that He cometh forth out of his chamber as a bridegroom, and exulteth as a giant who is to run his race.

Befides these thoughts, which captivate with their grandeur and fublimity, there are others that equally affect us by their agreeablenefs or beauty. The firft pleafe, because they have fomething great, which always charms the mind, whereas thefe pleafe only because they are agreeable. Comparisons and defcriptions, taken from florid and delightful fubjects, form agreeable thoughts, in the fame manner as those we take from grand subjects form those that are fublime.

The writings of the holy penmen are replete with these thoughts; but as the beauties of the bible are in every hand, and to be seen every day, we fhall felect what examples we have room to admit from our English poets. The description, however, which Solomon has given us of Wisdom, ought not to be omitted, because it is fufficient, one would think, to make every man in love with her.

Length of days are in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

There are many paffages in Mr. Smart's poem on the Immenfity of the Supreme Being, which contain agreeable thoughts; but that of the Ring-dove's neft is, I think, remarkably fo :

What are yon tow'rs,

The work of lab'ring man and clumsy art,

Seen with the ring-dove's neft ?-On that tall beeck

Her penfile house the feather'd artist builds—
The rocking winds moleft her not; for fee,
With fuch due poize the wond'rous fabrick's hung,
That, like the compass in the bark, it keeps
True to itself and stedfaft even in ftorms.
Thou ideot, that afferts there is no God,
View, and be dumb for ever.

Innumerable are the beauties of this agreeable kind that might be drawn from the poets, both ancient and modern. Those who would fee more of thefe defcriptive beauties, may abundantly gratify their curiofity in our volume of Rhetoric, where many are inferted to illuftrate the figures in that science. It is to be observed, however, that those where the tender paffions are concern'd, are not only more affecting, but often more pleafing than others, as may be seen by this fpeech of Eve to Adam, in Milton's Paradise Loft ; and by other paffages which we shall infert from that ever to be admired poem.

With thee converfing, I forget all time,

All feasons and their change, all please alike:
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rifing sweet
With charm of earliest birds, pleasant the fun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r,
Glift'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers, and fweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild: then filent night
With this her folemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.
But neither breath of morn, when the ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rifing fun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow'r,
Glift'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful evening mild, nor filent night
With this her folemn bird; nor walk by moon,
Or glittering ftar-light, without thee is fweet.

Adam on feeing Eve afleep with unusual discomposure in her looks, regards her, as Mr. Addifon obferves, with a tenderness not to be expreffed, and awakens her with the softeft whisper that ever was conveyed to a lover's ear.

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