'Answer-We do, as the bereaved children of our blessed benefactor. Query-How are we to do it? Answer-As their fathers did for us; use all active self-denying exertions "Objection 'Tis in vain-they are hardened. 'Answer-Whose fault is that? Ours Objection-The time is not come— Answer-Who is authorized to say so? We affirm that it is come. 1. God is awakening an attention to the world-in bibles-missions, &c. 2. He has stirred up attention to the Jews 3. He has excited an expectation of the Messiah, here and on the Continent. 4. He has given success already Some pious-and studious, preparing Success great, considering the efforts- But if it were not so, our duty is the same We call you, then, not to be generous, but just-Pay your debtsThink what arrears are due Let all the means in our power be used But let us, in the first place, give up our ownselves to the Lord; 2 Cor. viii. 5. Then may we hope for most success, when we can say, "Come and I will go also." Zech. viii. 21.' The general outline of every discourse is printed in a larger type than the subordinate particulars and the amplification, so as to present to the eye, in the clearest manner, and almost at a glance, the leading divisions of the sermon. The whole number of discourses which occupy the eleven volumes, is 1221, making the average length of the sermons somewhat less than five pages, and requiring about a quarter of an hour to read aloud. They are thus adapted to the convenience of families, and may usefully be read at the hour of family devotion, according to the suggestion of the Author. They are arranged in the order of the books of Scripture, which is the most convenient plan for the purposes of reference; and the work is the more valuable because a great variety of texts are selected by the Author, which are not very frequently chosen as the basis of discourses from the pulpit. Some idea of the extent and variety of the subjects embraced, and of the wide field of Scripture truth over which the reader is conducted, may be formed by the most brief and general statement of the contents of the several volumes. Vol. I. contains 98 Discourses, commencing with the book of Genesis, and terminating with that of Leviticus. Vol. II. contains discourses from number 99 to 220, commencing with the book of Numbers, and sending with the Second Book of Samuel. Vol. III.-1 Kings to Job.-221-330. Vol. IV. contains 109 Discourses on texts selected from the Psalms. Vol. V. Prov. to Isaiah-441-546. Vol. VI. completes the series on the Old Testament, making the whole number 654. The remaining five Volumes are occupied with discourses founded on the New Testament. Vol. VII. Matth. to Luke, 655-796. Vol. VIII. John to Acts, 797-901. Vol. IX. Rom. to Gal. 902-1015. Vol. X. Eph. to Heb. 1016-1135. Vol. XI. James to Rev. 1136-1221. The whole is followed by very ample and convenient indexes; including not only an index to the texts, but also one to the subjects. The general impression which this extensive and valuable work has produced upon our minds, is decidedly and strongly in favour of the piety, the talents, and the assiduity of the Author. He has performed a task of Herculean labour, and which but few, we think, besides himself, could have accomplished, or at least could have accomplished with equal judgement and success. It is the result of thought, reflection, and devotion, exercised on a vast variety of important subjects, by a mind well trained and disciplined for the employment. It is the produce of the laborious cultivation and unremitted diligence of many years. Nor will" the labour be in vain in the Lord." It has been undertaken and prosecuted, we are well persuaded, with a pure and earnest desire to promote the cause of Scriptural truth and vital Christianity; and we trust it will long continue, by the blessing of God, to answer the intended purpose, to a degree even more than commensurate with the expectations of the revered Author. Art. VII. The Fall of Jerusalem. A Dramatic Poem. By the Rev. H. H. Milman. New Edition. 8vo. pp. 167. Price 8s. 6d. London, 1820. IT T may be affirmed without a solecism, that the Stage has been the ruin of the Drama. In the days of our elder dramatists, the Stage was the nurse of Poetry, but the nurse has finished by overlaying her charge. Our modern playwrights are any thing but poets, and our modern poets are for the most part, every thing but dramatists. We have, indeed, in a distinguished female writer, one brilliant exception: Miss Baillie's tragedies, though often all the worse for the attempt to adapt them to representation, contain much poetry of the highest order. There are also, Coleridge's "Remorse" and Neale's Mustapha," productions richly partaking of the spirit of our early writers, and for this very reason not likely to succeed as acted plays. But the slight construction and diffuse style of modern poetry, are uncongenial with the severe laws of dramatic writing. A ready rhymer might strike off two or three dozen cantos of cantering narrative in the time that it would occupy to frame a tolerable tragedy; and series after series of tales, might be got up with less expense of patient and laborious meditation. We will not say that the difficulties of dramatic poetry supply the sole reason why it has been so rarely attempted. Probably it is felt, that an unacted play is of all productions the least attractive to general readers, carrying on the face of it a sort of presumption against its merits; while even the critic is too apt to judge of it by the fallacious and injurious test of theatric propriety. With many persons, too, dramatic poetry lies under a broad stigma arising from the bad company it has so long kept, from which not even the great name of the Author of Comus and Sampson Agonistes is sufficient to redeem it. But we will confess, that we have long wished to have one of the noblest species of literature rescued from the neglect into which, owing to these circumstances, it has so long fallen. Deprecating as we do the Stage with all its inseparable abominations, on the score of its influence upon the taste as well as the morals of the people, we yet regard the Drama as poetry in perhaps its most perfect form; and for this reason are anxious that, as the parties in question, the Stage and Poetry, have been so long virtually separated, a divorce should be pronounced, in order that each may be at liberty to maintain its separate state, without the courtiers of the Dramatic Muse being confounded with the apologists for the Theatre. The difficulty of writing a good tragedy,-of the extent of which difficulty few persons who have not made the trial are competent judges,-must nevertheless be admitted to constitute one reason that the thing has not been more frequently attempted by writers who have succeeded in almost every other kind of poetry. We have little doubt that Sir Walter Scott, for instance, could, if he chose to take the requisite pains, frame a very amusing comedy; but we doubt whether his talents are exactly of that order which would justify his venturing on the higher walk we are alluding to. Lord Byron has written a beautiful poem in the dramatic form, under the title of Manfred; but for reasons already given in our review of his Lordship's works, we are still left to question his being able to exert the plastic powers of a master of the drama. Mr. Southey's Roderick the Goth is confessedly a grand conception, but whether even Mr. Southey could write a tragedy, we will not pretend to say. It will not for a moment be supposed that we would affect to rank the talents of Mr. Milman above those of the poets we have referred to; but certainly, to have succeeded so well in this difficult and rarely trodden walk of poetry, implies the pos session of no ordinary share of ability,-chiefly, perhaps, a comprehensiveness of mind which does not always fall to the lot of more vigorous genius, and a power of conception much superior to the skill displayed in the execution of his verse. The present poem is not the first dramatic production for which the public are indebted to its Author. Mr. Milman's "Fazio," was a splendid promise of future excellence, and, as a play, quite equal to those which we have enumerated at the commencement of this article. Although very far from a faultless production, it contains passages of the most exquisite pathos, and makes a very strong impression upon the feelings. This was followed by a narrative poem which we have done the Author injustice in having so long deferred to notice, but which has not been in general considered as likely to gain popularity. The better chosen subject of The Fall of Jerusalem, not less than the form into which the poem is cast, will recommend it more extensively to the favourable notice it so well deserves. The subject is one which it is surprising no former poet should have pre-occupied, and the illustration of which it is in strict consistency with the clerical character sustained by the present Author, to make the chief business of the poem. It has been, he says, his object, to shew the full completion of pro'phecy in this great event.' Nor do I conceive,' it is added, that the public mind (should this poem merit attention) can be directed to so striking and so incontestible an evidence of the Christian faith without advantage. Those whom duty might not induce to compare the long narrative of Josephus with the Scriptural prediction of the " Abomination of Desolation," may be tempted by the embellishments of poetic language, and the interest of a dramatic fable.' It is well to have a noble object in view in the lighter exertions of one's faculties: it is well that all our pursuits should bear the stamp of one simple purpose that shall redeem even the most trivial from insignificance. It is this which sanctifies the character of the poet; this has encircled with a halo of moral grandeur the laureated brow of the Author of Paradise Lost; and the absence of this high moral aim, or, in some cases, the flagrant prostitution of transcendent talent to an infernal aim, has reflected contempt or degradation on too large a proportion of our literature. Mr. Milman is apparently aware of the fearful responsibility which a clergyman more peculiarly lies under with respect to the employment of his leisure; and assuredly, his own leisure has been in this instance as honourably as it has been elegantly employed. The drama before us, it is perhaps needless to premise, was neither written with a view to public representation, nor can be adapted to it without being entirely remodelled and rewritten.' We have, indeed, had a VOL. XIV. N.S. H recent instance of a clergyman writing expressly for the theatre; in which case, all that we can say is, that we should probably see reason to prefer his plays to his sermons; but from the disgraceful incongruity of such conduct, Mr. Milman stands most perfectly clear. There is nothing in his poem which in the least militates against his being a sound divine or an exemplary parish minister: we hope that he will prove himself both. This poem is not divided into Acts, but is supposed to comprise a period of about thirty-six hours, into which space are compressed, by an allowable exercise of the poetical license, events which occupied a much longer interval. The characters consist of the Roman Emperor and his council of chiefs; Simon, the Assassin, and John, the Tyrant, the leaders of the two hostile factions of Pharisees and Sadducees; Eleazar, the Zealot; Amariah, Son of John; Abiram, a false Prophet; Javan, a Christian, by birth a Jew; Miriam and Salone, daughters of Simon; and a few subordinate personages. It opens with a conference between Titus and his attendants, in which the order is given for completing that very night the circuit of the wall, by which the besieged were cut off from all possibility of escape. The scene is then changed to the Fountain of Siloe, where Miriam, the heroic Christian daughter of Simon, is expecting, at the appointed hour, her lover with the secret supplies by which, in the midst of the horrors of famine, she ministers nourishment to her father. Javan urges her to flee 6 answers, My father!" (Oh, that such flowers should bloom on such a stock !) Simon the Assassin! of the bloody men The bloodiest. • Miriam. Oh cease! I pray thee cease! Javan! I know that all men hate my father; Jav. Oh, Miriam! what a fatal art hast thou she |