No. 24.

POETICAL RESEMBLANCES.

SECOND ARTICLE.

PRICE 1d.

simply remembering. This occasional difficulty of determining what is one's own and what is not, doubtless forms the explanation of those cases in which one writer protests against conscious borrowing from another, but yet cannot deny that he has perused the work on which the charge is founded. Byron was thus placed when a similarity between a passage of Coleridge's Christabel' and an illustration he used in the third canto of Childe Harold' was pointed out.

In the following extracts, we shall first present a few of the more striking examples which have fallen under our notice of marked improvements on what was probably the original model of the thought given expression to. Of examples of improvements on ideas and expressions probably borrowed, we have many in The Curiosities of Literature,' but shall not quote from a work so well known more than the following fine instance:

'Howell has prefixed to his letters a tedious poem, written in the taste of the times, and he there says of letters that they are

SINCE our first paper on this subject appeared, we have
perused a kindred article by the elder D'Israeli in his
'Curiosities of Literature,' in which we were exceedingly
pleased to find that that most excellent judge in literary
matters had been actuated by a spirit in dealing with
the poetical resemblances which fell under his notice
similar to that with which we wrote respecting them.
Studied imitation, there may be, he admits-but as-
suredly similarity is not always imitation.' It is added-
'This kind of literary amusement is not despicable.
There are few men of letters who have not been in the
habit of marking parallel passages, or tracing imitation,
in the thousand shapes it assumes; it forms, it cultivates,
it delights taste, to observe by what dexterity and varia-
tion genius conceals or modifies an original thought or
image, and to view the same sentiment or expression
borrowed with art or heightened by embellishment.'
Moore also, in his Life of Lord Byron, while pointing out
an unimportant resemblance in that poet's works, remarks
of coincidences that they are no doubt worth observing,
and the task of 'tracking' thus a favourite writer 'in the
snow (as Dryden expresses it) of others,' is sometimes Then he adds, they
not unamusing; but to those who found on such resem-
blances a general charge of plagiarism we may apply what
Sir Walter Scott says in that most agreeable work, his
Lives of the Novelists-'It is a favourite theme of labori-
ous dullness to trace such coincidences, because they appear
to reduce genius of the highest order to the usual standard
of humanity, and of course to bring the author nearer to
a level with his critics.''

We formerly remarked, that the poet, equally with the painter and sculptor, must devote himself to the study of the best models in his chosen walk, and that it was consequently not unlikely, in the course of his labours, that he might unconsciously borrow some of the graces he was endeavouring to rival. In the case of language, more than in the embodiment of an idea by painting or sculpture, does this appear likely to happen. Speech is so much a matter of mere imitation, and the synonymes of our tongue so few, that in giving expression to an idea a somewhat similar collocation of words will necessarily occur with most men. Let it be noted, also, that poets are not always the inventors of new phraseology, but generally use expressions already sanctioned by good writers, and it will not appear odd that the poet at his desk should often be at a loss to know whether he is inventing or only

The heralds and sweet harbingers that move
From east to west, on embassies of love;
They can the tropic cut, and cross the line.

It is probable that Pope had noted this thought, for the
following lines seem a beautiful heightening of the idea:

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid.

Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,

And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.'

Whether Pope here knowingly borrowed the idea, and wrought it up into his own admirable form of expression, we have no means of ascertaining, but there are few who will not say it has gained in his version. A similar example of this re-setting of an intellectual gem occurs to us. A Turkish proverb says- Where the horse of a Kurd has struck the soil, the grass ceases to grow.' This saying has been thus finely versified by Byron in 'Mazeppa,'

For where the Spahi's hoof hath trod,

The verdure fiics the bloody sod.'

In the article in Fraser's Magazine entitled 'The Plagiarisms of Thomas Moore,' from which we formerly made a few quotations, are many good instances of this embellishment of what may have been occasionally borrowed ideas. We shall select two examples, interesting from the new beauties of thought and language introduced by Moore:

'Sir William Jones, in his preface to the Persian Grammar, says of perfection that it seems to withdraw itself from the pursuit of mortals in proportion to their endeavours of attaining it, like the talisman in the Arabian

Observe the style in which the Irish melodist throws Heber, in one of his majestic lyrics, applies the same

In the following examples, one is at a loss to say which ing in prayer by her soldier-lover at their old trystingpoet has stated the thought most beautifully:

In language still more glowing and eloquent has Heber finely variedembodied the same idea:

is almost identical with one of Cowper's in the Table clusion, that something has been done to dissipate the

notion that all poetical similarity is necessarily plagiarism; and that these extracts have been handled in a In Pope's 'Essay on Criticism' the following simile proper spirit, and with becoming reverence for the great

PORTRAIT GALLERY.

erroneousness of this opinion, but the structure of his own mind was such as to give to it an air of plausibility. Whatever the subject might be to which he applied his powers, he completely mastered it; and there were comparatively few subjects which did not engage some share of his attention. His first publication was 'An Account of the Life and Writings of Dr Thomas Brown;' a work which Sir James Mackintosh has characterized as 'full of analytical spirit and metaphysical reading.' His intimacy with the first metaphysician of his age, and perhaps the natural bent of his own mind, induced him to devote much of his time in early life to metaphysical pursuits, and the work to which we have referred forms a pleasing memorial of his acquirements in mental science. The lucid and interesting digest which he presents of Dr Brown's philosophical doctrines-his acquaintance, not more extensive than accurate, with the various authors who have

REV. DAVID WELSH, D.D. MANKIND do not willingly let die' those whom they have loved and honoured. Affection and piety have embalmed their bodies, and monuments have been erected to perpetuate their memories. But it is idle thus to contend with Death. All that is mortal he claims and keeps as his own. He reigns in triumph over the muffled and motionless mummy; and the cold marble or unbreathing brass can only preserve the form or image of the body, which is soon resolved into kindred dust. Their own works form the best and most enduring memorial of the truly great. They are immortalized by their own immortal thoughts. It is in the record of their virtues that they survive, to instruct and edify posterity: in the page of history they live, and speak to a thousand genera-treated of the same or kindred subjects-the freedom and tions.

familiarity with which he enters into the most profound and subtle speculations-the masterly manner in which he discusses every topic which he touches, combining original thought, an independent judgment, and a just appreciation of the merits of others, with an affectionate admiration of the friend whom he revered-afford unequivocal indications of his fitness to excel in this branch of inquiry, and intimate that it was in his power, if he had chosen to pursue this path, to become the first metaphysician in a country which has been more celebrated than any other for the works which it has produced on mental

The possessors of the greatest powers have not, indeed, been always the most useful or the most worthy of being remembered. Genius has too often been subject to melancholy aberrations; there have been lights which only 'led to bewilder, and dazzled to blind;' and noble gifts have been prostituted to unworthy and ignoble purposes. In other instances, men of extraordinary talents have been placed in circumstances of such rare occurrence that few can possibly emulate what it may be both the duty and the delight of all to admire. Individuals of more moderate endowments faithfully discharging the duties of every-physiology. day life, are, perhaps, fitted to be more generally useful as examples to their fellows. The righteous should be had in everlasting remembrance;' and it were well if the world were as familiar with the record of their virtues as with the stories that are rehearsed of the heroes and demigods of old renown.

It was to this latter class that Dr Welsh belonged. It is not our province to give even an outline of his tranquil and uneventful life; but we may be permitted to express the hope that a memoir of this most estimable man will ere long be prepared by some skilful and competent hand. His course was like that of a peaceful and pellucid stream, which attracts no observation by its brawling noise or tortuous windings, but which insensibly gains on the spectator by the purity of its healthful waters, and the fertility and freshness of its beautiful banks.

But however inviting the study of the human mind might have been to him, and however well he was qualified to gain fame in this field of inquiry, Dr Welsh had early devoted himself to a nobler science, and had consecrated all his gifts to the service of God. It was in the study of the sacred oracles that he found his most congenial employment; his highest ambition was to be a minister of Christ; and in 'the luxury of doing good,' in discharging the humblest offices of a Christian pastor, he experienced a greater satisfaction than he could have derived from all the honours which the world confers. He did not, however, abandon his early pursuits when he became a minister of the Gospel; nor did he for one moment imagine that human learning was unfriendly to the study of divine truth. It was while he was minister of the parish of Crossmichael that he prepared his account of Dr Brown; and the sermons which he composed at this period-a volume of which was published some years

The characteristic merit of Dr Welsh did not consist in a remarkable pre-eminence in respect of any one quality of the head or of the heart, but in the combina-ago-bear conspicuous marks of the severe discipline tion of talents and virtues which he exhibited. He was not, perhaps, the very foremost in any one department; but, on the other hand, there was none in which he was deficient. All his powers were of a high order-any one of them would have conferred distinction-but his peculiar excellence resulted from the even and happy balance of his faculties. He wanted the gigantic proportions of a Colossus, but he possessed the exquisite symmetry of an Apollo Belvidere.

It has been thought by some that the minds of men are all equally fitted for every kind of inquiry; that as we can move eastward or westward according as we choose to set our face in the one direction or the other, so it depends entirely on the determination of the will whether we shall excel in this or that department of study. No one could be more convinced than Dr Welsh of the

which his mind had undergone, and of the high state of cultivation in which it was kept. These sermons are on practical subjects, but they contain numerous proofs of a large and noble intellect. Acute and intelligent observation of the world, clear and consistent views of divine truth, an amazing dexterity in detecting the hidden springs of action and resolving mixed motives into their component elements, great comprehensiveness, combined with a nice discrimination, glowing affection, fervent piety, and a style so clear, so simple, and so elegant, as to be equally adapted to every class of readers-these are some of the qualities which Dr Welsh exhibits in this volume of sermons. He surrounds us with a transparent atmosphere, and leaves us always with a satisfying impression of the reasonableness and justice of his views; or rather-and in this, perhaps, we may discover his chief

diamonds were of the purest water, and they bore the finest polish.

excellence we forget the author in the subject-we ourselves are made to commune with truth, our eyes behold the light, we listen to the voice of God. There have Dr Welsh was not more eminent for his talents and been more popular pre chers than Dr Welsh; but we are attainments than for his virtues. He was a man of sinacquainted with no volume of sermons superior to these gular modesty, and of the most self-denying benevolence. for family reading. The peculiar doctrines of Christianity Such was his abhorrence of ostentation, that his most inare clearly unfolded and enforced with great earnest-timate friends were often surprised by the extent of his ness. There is an entire freedom from fanciful inter- knowledge and the kindness of his heart. Unbounded conpretations, and mystical speculations, and unprofitable fidence could be placed in his integrity, and he was serudi cussions. Every thing tends to instruct, or convince, pulously truthful, never allowing himself to indulge in or persuade. the exaggerations and embellishments to which too many The talents and virtues of Dr Welsh could not fail to are prone. Above all, he was unfeignedly devout, though bring him into public notice. From Crossmichael he was accustomed in conversation to express his convictions rather removed to Glasgow; and, in a few years afterwards, he than his feelings. The combination of his talents was only was appointed to the chair of Church History in the less wonderful than the variety of his graces. He could University of Edinburgh. The effort of preaching was be severe-his weapon was sharpened to the keenest edge, always painful to him. He did not recover from his and it cut to the quick; but it was scarcely ever employed. Sabbath's exertions for several days; and it is more than He was a man of the mildest manners and of the gentlest probable that his life would have been materially abridged heart. He could feel an injury acutely, but he was of the if he had not been relieved from the fatiguing duties of the most forgiving temper; with a high standard of excelpulpit. For this reason, and as affording him more leisure lence no one was more forbearing towards others. He to gratify his thirst for knowledge, and still more, perhaps, had the rare art of maintaining his own views and followbecause of the interest which he took in education in all ing the course which his own conscience pointed out to its branches, his appointment to a professorship must have him as right, without giving offence to others; so that been satisfactory to himself: unquestionably it was of though he had to take a decided part in the late great great service to the church of which he was a minister. ecclesiastical controversy which all parties allow has proThe only fruit of his labours in this department which voked many evil passions and engendered innumerable he has given to the world consists in the first of a series strifes, and though he had to occupy the most conspiof volumes which he intended to publish from time to cuous position on the day of the disruption of the Estatime, under the title of The Elements of Church His- blished Church of Scotland, he has left the world without tory. It is to be regretted that he did not live to com- leaving an enemy, or an unkind wish in the bosom of a plete his design; for though the volume which has ap- single human being. The delight of all his friends, the peared exhibits many of his characteristic qualities, it is pride of all his students, regretted in the world of letters, not perhaps a fair specimen of the man. There is im- mourned and honoured in the church, eulogized in Parmense learning, an accuracy that is almost painful, the liament, and loved and reverently praised in a thousand strictest impartiality, consummate judgment, and a sensi- lowly dwellings, the affection with which he regarded all tive regard for the honour of truth-still the subject to was reflected back upon himself, and he was a universal which he was restricted (the external history of the favourite. There have been greater men, but within bis church during the first three centuries) was not such as sphere few have ever approached so nearly to perfeeto develop the powers which he possessed in the highest tion. degree. His style was admirably adapted for the expres- It may be mentioned as a proof of the influence which sion of exact thinking, but it was too terse; it wanted the he exercised, and of the success with which he prosecuted copiousness, and perhaps the flexibility which is necessary any object in which he was deeply interested, that, in the to a free and flowing narrative. It was in treating of the course of a few weeks during last summer, he obtained internal history of the church-in giving a clear and candid subscriptions for a new college to the amount of £21,000 | statement of the opinions of the fathers-in detecting the from twenty individuals; and that, in little more than a sources of heresy in the dispositions, habits, and circum-year, he collected upwards of 8000 volumes (many of them stances of those with whom it originated-in exposing very rare and valuable) for the theological library conspecious errors-in bringing prominently into view im- nected with this college. portant truths which prejudice or interest had consigned to obscurity and neglect-in distinguishing between the real causes of events and the accidental circumstances by which they were attended-in delineating characterand in illustrating the various virtues of eminent saints that he appeared to most advantage. The volume_last mentioned, we have understood from those who have attended his lectures, does not afford an adequate view of his course as a whole.

In personal appearance Dr Welsh was about the average height, of fair complexion, and rather small features. His countenance had two prevailing expressions-that of keen inquiry and cheerful kindness. His voice was weak and unmusical, though his utterance was sometimes accompanied with great power. In the case of compositions characterized by simplicity, where every word presents a new idea or evokes a new feeling, his delivery was peculiarly impressive. It was a great delight, for example, to hear him repeat Wordsworth's well-known verses beginning

'There dwelt amidst untrodden ways."

It is well known that Dr Welsh was editor of the North British Review-a periodical which professes to combine the highest literary and scientific merits with sound morality and evangelical religion. His acquaintance with many of our best writers, his own extensive No one could doubt whether there was strength or weakacquirements, great sense, and excellent principles, quali-ness in the concluding lines. There was a sudden and fied him in no ordinary degree for this high office; and irrepressible revelation of a deep, strong-grasping affecit cannot be doubted that, if he had lived, he would have tion, which had been long pent up in an unsophisticated rendered this journal one of the most popular and in- mind, and which found vent in the briefest and simplest | fluential, and therefore one of the most useful, publica- words. tions of the present day.

It is no disparagement to Dr Welsh to say that his eminence was owing not more to his original powers than to the assiduity with which these were cultivated. What ever he did was done to the best of his ability. He had too much respect for the world to be careless or slovenly. Whatever proceeded from him therefore exhibited elaLoration and refinement. His gold was precious ore, and it came shaped and shining from the mould; his

Dr Welsh died very suddenly, in the prime of life, leaving a widow and four children. He was well prepared for death; and when called away from this world he was engaged in devotional exercises. The honours of a public funeral were awarded to him. His remains lie in the West Churchyard, Edinburgh, at the base of the Castle rock-meet resting-place for one who, during bis lifetime, habitually reposed within the shadow of the Rock of Ages.

THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM. It is now midsummer-the bright sun shines throughout the long day, diffusing light and heat over the face of nature-the earth is in its full luxuriance; and in the words of Milton, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go forth and taste her beauties, and mingle in her rejoicings with heaven and earth.'

What a change a few months has brought about! Lately, the earth was bound up in the severe frosts of winter-not a leaf or a gay blossom was to be seen-all was apparent barrenness and desolation. And so was the earth before it was first clothed with the green herb-a bare, rocky, and barren mass. Vegetables are as it were the clothing of the earth; flowers, shrubs, and trees, its ornaments. There is a softness and appropriateness in the subdued tinge of green, which is with very few exceptions the prevailing livery of the earth-something which is pleasing and refreshing for the eye to look upon, without being too glaring or dazzling.

Vegetables, though they do not possess the structure and sensations of living animals, have yet a kind of life of which mere matter is altogether destitute. They form a link, and a most important one, between mineral substances, such as rocks and stones, and animated beings. But though they are thus endowed with a kind of vitality, yet, as to actual composition, they are, like all animals, not excepting man himself, literally formed out of the "dust of the earth.'

A few simple substances, such as carbon, sulphur, phosphorus, potash, soda, lime, magnesia, combined with three gaseous bodies, oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen, make up the whole of the matter of which plants are composed. Now, exactly the same substances combine to form the flesh and bones of animals; but as animals cannot extract and combine these substances directly from the air, water, and soil, they have to depend either directly or indirectly on vegetables for their nourishment. No animal, even the simplest or most minute or insignificant, can live on inorganic matter. A great proportion of quadrupeds derive their sole support from grasses and green herbs, and many kinds of birds from grain and seeds; these become the prey of carnivorous animals, and afford them their sole means of subsistence. Fishes prey upon flies and insects, which either directly or indirectly derive their subsistence from the vegetable kingdom; and man, as well as some other animals, lives indiscriminately both on animal and vegetable matter. We thus find that vegetables perform a most important office in creation. By their peculiar structure and functions, and under the laws of vital action, they assimilate air, water, and earthy salts, and form out of them the matters called gluten, starch, sugar, and oils, which become the food of animals.

this is strictly correct. A plant is an organized structure, having numerous minute cells and porous tubes through which a sap or juice flows, and by which all the functions are performed, tending to increase, preserve, or multiply the species. It is possessed of what has been called irritability, which in many respects resembles some of the motions of animals, as is exemplified in the shrinking of the sensitive plant when touched by the hand, the movements of the leaves of plants towards the light, and the twining of their tendrils round other neighbouring substances for support. But plants have not sensation. They do not feel like animals, nor exhibit any traces of consciousness. In short, they possess only that lowest form of vitality which has been called organic life.

Plants vary greatly in their structure, but the generality have roots, stems, branches, leaves, blossoms, and receptacles for the maturation of their seeds. Pervading the roots and stem, there are a series of minute hollow tubes and spiral vessels through which the sap passes upwards from the earth, and, mounting to the leaves, there combines with the gases of the atmosphere, and thus becomes converted into a nutritious juice, which again descends, and is distributed throughout every part of the plant for its growth and nourishment. The outer bark of the plant consists of a thin membrane, somewhat like the skin of animals, and serves a similar purpose, to protect the parts beneath from the air and from external injury; serving also for the exhalation and absorption of moisture through its numerous pores. Immediately under the skin is a soft pulpy structure, consisting of innumerable cells, and which is of a green colour in almost all vegetables. Of this kind of structure, too, the leaves of plants are composed. Under this cellular substance, we find in woody plants the true bark or liber, composed of numerous fibres running in a longitudinal direction, and having the appearance, when slightly macerated, of a fine net-work. In this portion of the bark the peculiar virtues of plants principally are found; such as gums, resins, essential oils, as cinnamon, peppermint, turpen tine, and the astringent tannin of the oak. The wood is found immediately under this, circle within circle, extending to the pith, which is situated in the centre. The outer circle of wood next the bark is softer and juicier than those in the centre, being the newest; and as a circle is formed each year, the number in a transverse section, near the root, will commonly denote the age of the tree, at least all those trees of temperate regions. Throughout the woody fibres, but especially the outer circies, there are numerous tubes and cells, generally six-sided, through which sap and air freely flow. The leaves of plants are most important appendages, and may be compared to the lungs of animals. Plants will not live if deprived of their leaves, or if they have not free access to the sun and air. During the day, and in sunshine, the It is to the operations of vegetables, too, that we owe a leaves of plants continually absorb the carbonic acid and considerable proportion of the soil which covers the earth. nitrogen gases of the atmosphere, which enter into union If we examine the rocks and stones around us, we shall with their juices, while oxygen gas is as constantly exfind their surfaces covered with circular patches of grey haled. In the darkness of night this process ceases, and and yellowish lichens. These are simple plants, the mi-a portion of the carbonic acid of their juices is thrown nute seeds cf which, wafted by the winds, fall on the rocks, off. Now, this daily action of plants is just the reverse and adhere to them by means of a glutinous matter on the of the breathing process of animals-the latter consume lower sides of the seed. Attracting moisture from the the oxygen of the atmosphere, and give out carbonic acid, air, they germinate, increase, and then moulder to decay. so that in process of time the air we breathe would beTheir remains, mingling with the mouldering rocks be- come vitiated, were its oxygen not continually renewed neath, in time accumulate a certain depth of soil, which by the operations of the vegetable kingdom. Here then still goes on increasing, till at last it becomes a deep bed we perceive another providential adjustment; not only fit for receiving and nourishing other species of plants do plants contribute food for animals, but they are also that may be driven towards it by the agency of the winds, the great regenerators of the atmosphere, the purity of of birds, or other means which nature employs for the which is equally subservient to animal existence. diffusion of vegetables. In this manner have our deepest and most fertile soils derived their origin. We find also vast accumulations of decayed plants making up peat mosses-and vegetables of a still more remote growth treasured up in the bowels of the earth in the form of that most valuable mineral, coal.

In common language, we speak of plants as living, as growing or increasing, and as fading and dying. Now,

But there remains another feature of plants to be noticed -the flowers or blossoms, those variously tinted portions which add such beauty and splendour to the face of nature. We cannot in the summer season turn our eyes in any direction, where we do not find the trees, hedges, and fields, loaded with gorgeous ornaments, from which proceeds also a mingled odour of delightful sweets. Even the meanest weed beneath our feet shows its little white