After all, however, that may be inferred from theory, the only satisfactory means of determining the point in question, is an appeal to the works in question. Adopting this test, original and ingenious must that critic be who could shew, on rational principles, that the poems of Chaucer, Gower and Surrey, are superior to those of Spenser, Shakspeare and Milton,—that Gawain Douglas and Thomas of Ercildoun, displayed more of the true spirit of song than Bruce and Burns-or, that the troubadours and provençals of Italy and Southern France take precedence in rank as they do in date of Dante and Petrarch, Ariosto and Tasso. Among the Greeks and Romans the palm of pre-eminence is universally awarded to Homer and Virgil; and yet it would be as difficult to prove that the former had no poetic predecessors as it would to deny that the latter lived in a comparatively recent period of Roman greatness and Roman genius. Again, it is said that the power of pourtraying is in inverse ratio to that of analyzing, and that as philosophy advances poetry declines. Surely this is opposed both to theory and fact. We cannot delineate what we do not understand; and we describe faithfully and forcibly only what we comprehend clearly and minutely. None can paint the workings of the human heart like him who has studied its moral anatomy. To this Shakspeare owes his peculiar glory; and to this Lord Byron, in our own day, is evidently indebted for much of that terrible power with which he bodies forth the sterner and darker emotions of the soul. In this the author of Childe Harold, Manfred, and the Corsair, has never been excelled; and this is unquestionably, one of the highest, most arduous, and most interesting departments of the muse's art. To affirm, then, that "English Poetry has seen its best days," is to impugn the truth of this position, and to deny to one branch of intellectual science the progressive perfectibility which belongs to all others. Without enquiring into the special merits of the several schools into which our poetry has been divided, it may safely be presumed, that those who claim pre-eminence for the bards of a bygone day, would willingly appeal, as their proof, to Shakspeare and Milton. And if indeed it were demanded who among our countrymen possessed and exhibited the greatest number of the elements of poetic genius, the bard of Avon must undoubtedly be selected. The author of Paradise Lost, though displaying a grandeur in the conception, and a severe simplicity in the execution of his sublime master-piece, unrivalled in their kind, was nevertheless defective in tenderness, in grace, and above all in that versatility of power which characterized Shakspeare, and in which some of our recent writers have assuredly excelled him. Admitting, then, that Shakspeare stands alone, and that what he has done is done perfectly, it may still be said that, although no single poet of succeeding times has inherited his various excellence, yet, that an amount of poetry has been produced in the present century equal in quality and superior in quantity to the richest treasures of the Elizabethan age. Search through that, or any subsequent period of our literary history, and where will you find a galaxy of names so numerous and so distinguished as those which have adorned the Georgian era? Where will you discover any thing in its kind, that transcends the fire and the force of Byron; the depth and simplicity of Wordsworth; the fancy and tenderness of Moore; the varied and wonderful imagery of Southey; the elegance and pathos of Campbell, or Rogers; the hallowed sweetness of Montgomery; or, the graphic, living narrative of Scott? In our day, too, the delicate and graceful hand of woman has struck the British lyre; and a minstrelsy of unimagined beauty has responded to the touch. Metaphysical quaintness and recondite learning gave its peculiarity to English Poetry under James and Charles the First; as did sententious, brevity and epigrammatic point, in the reign of Anne and her successor. Now, its loveliest distinctive is the purity and the polish breathing in the strains of Barbauld and Hemans, Landon and Bowles. Why then should we fear that our poetry is deteriorating? The same apprehension might have been entertained at the close of the 17th or 18th centuries, or at any other epoch in the history of our philosophy. And, as the constellations of genius which have periodically dawned upon us, would in succession have falsified all such forebodings, so, we have a right to infer, from the nature of man's imagination, — from the progressive character of all science,-and from our experience of the past-the fallacy of similar predictions with regard to the future. BETA. SACRED MUSIC. An Ode from the German of Klopstock. DEAR dream, which I must ne'er behold fulfill'd, Thou beamy form, more fair than orient day, Float back and hover yet Before my swimming sight. Do they wear crowns in vain, that they forbear To realize the heavenly portraiture? Shall marble hearse them all, Ere the bright change be wrought? Hail, chosen ruler of a freer world! Yes-could the grave allow-of thee I'd sing: My pledge for loftier verse. Great is thy deed, my wish. He has not known What 't is to melt in bliss, who never felt Devotion's raptures rise On sacred music's wing: Ne'er sweetly trembled, when adoring choirs The unseen choirs above. Long float around my forehead, blissful dream! The people sing their Saviour, sing the Son; Th' aspiring soul from earth. On the rais'd eye-lash, on the burning cheek, Where angels wave the palm. Hush! the clear song wells forth. Now flows along Music, as if pour'd artless from the breast; To lead its channel'd course. Deep, strong, it seizes on the swelling heart, Or steep in holy awe. Borne on the deep, slow sounds, a holy awe The theme, "Impending doom," Or the triumphal "Hail to Him who rose;" Ascend the Lord of life. One voice alone, one harp alone, begins; But soon joins in the ever-fuller choir. Rolls aloud Joy! joy! They scarce support it. The organ's thunder- -now more loud, and more— And to the shout of all, The temple trembles too! Enough! I sink. The wave of people bows Before the altar-bows the front to earth; They taste the hallowed cup, Devoutly, deeply, still. One day, when rest my bones beside a fane Its flow'rets' sweeter bloom; And on the morn that from the rock he sprang, Shall vibrate through the tomb. Norwich. W. TAYLOR. WHAT ARE COMETS? No. XI. It is only upon aqueous fluids that heat exerts at the same time the powers of expansion and repulsion. By the latter of these we daily see water expelled from all heated bodies, while by the former it is converted into vapor or steam. Supposing then the whole volume of water existing in our earth, to be exposed to such an influence, it cannot be doubted, that by the application of an adequate degree of heat—“admoto efficacissimo igne”every fluid particle might be driven out from the solid body of our planet, and collected around it in a dense misty atmosphere of very considerable extent.3 Taking this hypothetical process as an illustration of the present subject of inquiry, we shall find it exactly adapted to explain the construction of comets, and the nature of their tails. It has been shewn that the nucleus is most probably a planetary chaos in a state of conflagration. Its fires, penetrating through the inmost mass, must necessarily expel from it every aqueous particle, which will rise in copious streams of vapor, so as to fill and surcharge whatever atmosphere may have been formed. So long as the heat continues below, no precipitation can take place, but the floating clouds, tending continually downwards, yet unable to descend, will be kept suspended in a medium, by which they cannot be absorbed, where they will constitute that nebulous ring which surrounds all comets at the time of their first appearance. In the cold temperature of remote space, these congregated vapors must have been condensed to such a degree, as to be susceptible of very extensive dilatation in their passage through 3 Leibnitz considered the traces of fire to be so decidedly marked on the face of our earth, that he concluded all planets to be stars burnt out; and he has described in a very striking and impressive manner, the operation here contemplated. See his Protogea, § 4. |