Early English Poets. The number of poets from whose works extracts are here given, is inferior, by about a third part, to that which the Catalogue of Mr. Ellis presents; but it must be recollected, that the present Editor was confined entirely to the selection of poenis connected with sacred subjects and religious feeling, while the former ranged uncontrolled over the whole field of English Poetry. At the same time, the names of some Poets will be found in this volume, that are omitted by Mr. Ellis, and from whose writings no previous specimens have been presented to the public.'

But the question arises, Is the principle of selection a sound one, which leads an Editor to regard less the specific and intrinsic merit of the several compositions, than the number of authors whose names he may bring into his catalogue? If the object be to illustrate the history of English poetry, by exhibiting specimens of the changes in language, or by shewing he progress of taste, we admit, that the rarity of the work, as well as the very quaintness of the style, may be a sufficient recommendation of the poem extracted, and that the more extensive the range taken in selecting, the better. But, in compiling a volume of sacred poetry, we know of no other considerations that ought to determine the choice, than the striking cast of the sentiment, or the real beauty of the expression. Nor do we think that it would be difficult to fill a volume with specimens of this kind, which, though less interesting to the bibliographer or antiquary,would be extremely more gratifying to the lovers of devotional poetry.

We have been too much interested, however, by the contents of Mr. Mitford's volume, to murmur at his not having executed his task in all respects quite to our taste. Many of the less pleasing specimens are highly curious, and the volume will form a very acceptable addition to our library. As our first specimen of these Specimens, we cannot do better than give the following striking and pathetic stanzas by the Author of the Silex Scintillans.

They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit ling'ring here:

Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,

Like stars upon some gloomy grove,

Or those faint beams in which this hill is. drest
After the sun's remove.

'I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmerings and decays.

"O holy hope! and high humility!

High as the heavens above!

These are your walks, and you have shewed them to me,
To kindle my cold love.

'Dear, beauteous death! the jewel of the just,
Shining no where but in the dark;

What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,

Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest, may know
At first sight if the bird be flown;

But what fair vale or grove he sings in now,

That to him is unknown.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams,
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,

So, some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.

'If a star were confined into a tomb,

Her captive flames must needs burn there;

But when the hand that locked her up, gives room,
She'd shine thro' all the sphere.

O Father of eternal life and all

Created glories under thee!

Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall

Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective as they pass,

Or else remove me hence unto that hill

Where I shall need no glass.'

One specimen is given from Poems by John Milton.' We were at first ready to imagine that Mr. Mitford had lighted upon the works of some minor poet of that name, not to be found in Ellis, and whom we had never before heard of. It will hardly be credited that, as a specimen of the devotional poetry of the Author of Paradise Lost, we are here presented with one of the psalms done into metre, wherein all but what 'is in a different character are the very words of the text 'translated from the original.' This is the notice which prefaces the nine psalms from which Mr. Mitford has taken the one inserted in his volume, the lxxxiid; and it sufficiently accounts for the servility, baldness, and inelegance of the version. But Milton's own explanation of his design is suppressed, and we are left wholly to conjecture as to Mr. Mitford's motive for passing over the exquisite ode on the Nativity and the Sonnets, to say nothing of the sublime devotional passages in the larger poems, to give this doggrel as a

characteristic specimen of the Works of Milton! We must say, that either the judgement or the good faith of an Editor of Specimens is by such proceeding brought into question.

Milton's versions of the Psalms are confessedly a failure: they are, to use his own expression, done into verse,' and they are not well done. We are led to believe that his reverence for the sacred text prompted him to adhere as closely as possible to a literal rendering; but he mistook the principle upon which all metrical versions must be attempted in order to success, and he was hampered with his rhymes. Perhaps he mistook also, as others have done, the pleasure of composition for successful execution; that pleasure being derived, in this instance, from the study of the originals, the beauties of which he might imagine that he had transfused into his version, because it recalled them to his own mind, and thus reflected to his own eye a light and beauty which it could impart to no other. However this may have been, it must be acknowledged, that, even in comparison with George Sandys, his contemporary, he has failed as a metrical translator of the Psalms. The following specimen of Sandys's versions is very far superior to any that we recollect to have met with in any other author of the same date.

PSALM XIX.

God's glory the vast heavens proclaim;
The firmament his mighty Name.

Day unto day, and night to night,

The wonders of his works recite.

To these nor speech nor words belong,
Yet understood without a tongue.

The globe of earth they compass round,
Through all the world disperse their sound.
There is the Sun's pavilion set,

Who from his rosy cabinet,

Like a fresh bridegroom shews his face,
And as a giant runs his race.

He riseth in the dawning east,
And glides obliquely to the west;
The world with his bright rays replete,
All creatures cherished by his heat.
'God's laws are perfect, and restore
The soul to life, even dead before.
His testimonies, firmly true,

With wisdom simple men endue.

The Lord's commandments are upright,

And feast the soul with sweet delight:

His precepts are all purity,

Such as illuminate the eye.

The fear of God, soiled with no stain,
Shall everlastingly remain.
Jehovah's judgements are divine;
With judgement he doth justice join;
Which men should more than gold desire,
Than heaps of gold refined by fire;
More sweet than honey from the hive,
Or cells where bees their treasures stive.
Thy servant is informed from thence :
They their observers recompense.
Who knows what his offences be?
From secret sins, O cleanse thou me!
And from presumptuous crimes restrain,
Nor let them in thy servant reign.
So shall I live in innocence,

Not spotted with that great offence.
My fortress, my deliverer!

O let the prayer my lips prefer

And thoughts which from my lips arise,
Be acceptable in thine eyes!'

Sandys was a good classic scholar as well as an excellent traveller and pious man; and he has richly studded his Travels with citations from the Greek and Roman poets, subjoining his own translation in rhyme. Some of these deserve transcription. For instance: the following translation of part of one of Horace's odes (book i. ode 37), will bear a comparison at least with Francis's version, both as to spirit and fidelity. The poet is speaking of Cleopatra.

Who, seeking nobly how to die,

Not, like a woman, timorously.

Avoids the sword; nor, with swift oars,

Sought Nile's abstruse and untraced shores :
That with a clear brow durst behold

Her downcast state; and, uncontrolled

By horror, offer her firm breast

To touch of asps and death's arrest.
More brave in her deliberate end,
Great soul, disdaining to descend
To thraldom, and a vassal go
To grace the triumph of her foe.'

Ovid's description of Arion is given with not less ease and spirit by the learned Traveller.

Not life (quoth he) crave I;

But leave to touch my harp before I die.
They give consent and laugh at his delay.
A crown that might become the king of day,
puts on, and a fair robe rarely wrought
With Tyrian purple. The strings speak his thought:
VOL. XXVII. N.S.

He

G

He (like a dying swan shot through by some
Hard heart) sings, his own Epicedium.
And then, clothed as he was, he leaps into
The more safe sea, whose blue brine upward flew.
When (past belief) a dolphin sets him on
His crooked back; a burden erst unknown.

There set, he harps and sings; with that price pays
For portage; and rude seas calms with his lays.'

To these specimens of Sandys's skill as a translator, we cannot forbear to add his rendering of a sacred epigram stated to be inscribed in the principal Church at Cologne.

Tres Reges, Regi Regum, tria dona ferebant;
Myrrham homini, uncto aurum, thura dedere Deo.
Tu tria facultatum dones pia munera Christo,
Muneribus gratus si cupis esse tuis.

Pro myrrha lachrymas, auro cor porrige purum,
Pro thure, ex humili pectore funde preces.'

Three kings, the King of kings three gifts did bring;
Myrrh, incense, gold; as to Man, God, a King.
Three holy gifts be likewise given by thee

To Christ, even such as acceptable be.

For myrrha, tears; for frankincense, impart
Submissive prayers; for pure gold, a pure heart.'

But when Sandys gets to Jerusalem, and is describing the Holy Sepulchre, the subject draws from him the impassioned exclamation: It is a frozen zeal that will not be warmed with ⚫ the sight thereof. And oh, that I could retain the effects that it wrought, with an unfainting perseverance! Who then did ' dedicate this hymn to my Redeemer.

'Saviour of mankind, Man, Emanuel:

Who sinless died for sin, who vanquished Hell:
The First-fruits of the Grave; whose life did give
Light to our darkness; in whose death we live:
O strengthen thou my faith, correct my will,
That mine may thine obey! Protect me still;
So that the latter death may not devour
My soul sealed with thy seal. So, in the hour
When thou whose body sanctified this tomb,
Unjustly judged, a glorious Judge shalt come,
To judge the world with justice; by that sign
I may be known and entertained for Thine."

As Mr. Mitford has given no original poem by Sandys, this hymn will not be unacceptable to those of our readers who do not happen to possess his Travels. It certainly merits a place in any collection of English Devotional poetry.