beauty, (some of solemn grandeur,) but is highly poetical throughout.

It consists of ten books. In the first, a period long after the last judgment is supposed to have arrived. From some distant world, the paradise which is described, receives a new inhabitant. To two of its inhabitants he mentions the place of everlasting punishment, which he had passed, and its undying worm and unquenchable fire, requesting a solution of the mystery; and for this purpose is introduced to a bard of the ancient earth, who consents to relate to him the history of the human race. This begins in the second book, and is carried on to the judgmentday, with which it closes. Man's creation and fall are described, and the scheme of human redemption is shown. Various instances of man's sinfulness, general and social, and particular and individual, are brought forward. Conduct is traced to its principles, and principles are developed into conduct. The state of mankind towards the close of the world is depicted, the precursors of judgment are pointed out, and, finally, judgment itself, and its results. And thus the work concludes. The bard of earth had first promised, that he would

"From his various song

That backward rolls o'er many a tide of years,"

"sketch" to them "in brief the history of man;" and when his task was finished, he says,

"Thus have I sung beyond thy first request,
Rolling my numbers o'er the track of man,

The world at dawn, at mid-day, and decline;
Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damn'd,
And God's eternal government approved."

These are the last lines of the poem.

The verse is strong and fluent, and well-sustained. When we read the poem on its first appearance, the structure of the verse, and its occasional involutions, reminded us of Milton. Later perusal has not, however, sustained the resemblance. Milton's verse is full of melody and majesty; and highly polished as it is, its compactness is not less remarkable. He who reads it carefully will find that scarcely ever does a

superfluous word occur, one that could be removed from the sentence without affecting the meaning. In this respect, Milton is inimitable. Pollok follows him closely. His sentences are full of thought, but the thought is sometimes found in what we might almost call a state of verbal dilution. But though not standing on the ground which Milton occupies, Pollok ranks among the best writers of blank verse, exclusively of Milton. Its general character is strength. But, though the character of his poem required this severe manliness of style, when necessary, passages of almost unequalled tenderness and beauty flow from his pen. In the thoughts expressed he sometimes stands along with the great Roman satirist; but while his style is equally caustic and vigorous, it has nothing of the roughness of Juvenal. As in almost all other instances, the “Course of Time” ought to be read aloud, that the melody and harmony of its numbers may be properly perceived. Lines may be found in this comparatively youthful composition which would not disgrace some of the most able and careful composers of English verse.

Our limits will allow of so few extracts, that we really feel the task of selection to be difficult, difficult from the number and continual recurrence of passages deserving notice. Whatever we take, we shall scarcely be able to avoid the feeling that better is left behind. A few, however, we must give. Let the reader do as we have suggested. To catch the thought, he may read with his eye; to realize the character of the verse, he must read it with his voice.

The opening invocation may be taken as a fair specimen of the average character of the verse :

"Eternal Spirit! God of truth! to whom

All things seem as they are. Thou who of old
The Prophet's eye unscaled, that nightly saw,
While heavy sleep fell down on other men,
In holy vision tranced, the future pass
Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned
Burdens which made the Pagan mountains shake,
And Zion's cedars bow,-inspire my song;
My eye unscale; me what is substance teach;
And shadow what, while I of things to come,

As past, rehearsing, sing the Course of Time,

The second birth, and final doom of man."

The lines which immediately follow, impressively show the satirist and the instructer :

"The muse that soft and sickly woos the ear

Of love, or chanting loud in windy rhyme,
Of fabled hero raves through gaudy tale,
Not overfraught with sense, I ask not: such
A strain befits not argument so high.
My thought and phrase severely sifting out
The whole idea, grant, uttering as 'tis

The' essential truth,-Time gone, the righteous saved,
The wicked damn'd, and Providence approved.
Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach
To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes
Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure
As those by sainted bards and angels sung,
Which wake the echoes of eternity;

That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise,
Instructed, listen of ages yet to come."

He thus sternly rebukes "the unfaithful Priest:"

"His doctrine may

Be pass'd, though mix'd with most unhallow'd leaven,

That proved, to those who foolishly partook,

Eternal bitterness. But this was still

His sin, beneath what cloak soever veil'd,

His ever-growing and perpetual sin,

First, last, and middle thought, whence every wish,

Whence every action rose, and ended both :

To mount to place and power of worldly sort;

To ape the gaudy pomp and equipage

Of earthly state, and on his wicked brow

To place a royal crown. For this he sold
The sacred truth to him who most would give
Of titles, benefices, honours, names;
For this betray'd his Master; and for this

Made merchandise of the immortal souls
Committed to his care. This was his sin."

The next extract is a beautiful one. It is part of a

delightful reference to children, and the affection they awaken and increase :

"And still I look'd upon their loveliness,
And sought through nature for similitudes
Of perfect beauty, innocence, and bliss;
And fairest imagery around me throng'd:
Dew-drops at day-spring on a seraph's locks;
Roses that bathe about the well of life;

Young loves, young hopes, dancing on morning's cheek;

Gems leaping in the coronet of love!

So beautiful, so full of life, they seem'd

As made entire of beams of angels' eyes.
Gay, guileless, sportive, lovely little things!
Playing around the den of sorrow, clad

In smiles, believing fairy hopes,

And thinking man and woman true! all joy,

Happy all day, and happy all the night."

Who can doubt his eye and relish for natural beauty that reads these lines?—

"It was an eve of Autumn's holiest mood;
The corn-fields, bathed in Cynthia's silver light,
Stood ready for the reaper's gathering hand,
And all the winds slept soundly. Nature seem'd,
In silent contemplation, to adore

Its Maker. Now and then, the aged leaf
Fell from its fellows, rustling to the ground;
And as it fell, bade man think on his end.
On vale and lake, on wood and mountain high,
With pensive wings outspread, sat heavenly Thought,
Conversing with itself. Vesper look'd forth
From out her western hermitage, and smiled;

And up the east, unclouded, rose the moon
With all her stars, gazing on earth intense,
As if she saw some mighty wonder there."

We just give a few finely-expressed lines:

"And worn and wasted with enormous woe."
"And sorrow, and repentance, and despair,
Among them walk'd."

"With truth and melody delighted both."

"The wild rebellious passions to subdue,

And bring them back to harmony with heaven."

We have

But, however reluctantly, we must cease. already exceeded our bounds. Two more specimens shall be inserted in our poetical department. We earnestly recommend the book for its truth and wisdom, as well as its poetry. Let the student of poetry see, by careful examination, how much the author must have read, how much thought, before he could have written such a volume. Rich and ample was his store of collected materials; and then, most careful was the manner in which they were employed. There is no vapid, bombastic, meaningless expression. All is like beautiful engraving on solid gold. He wrote not much; but he has written what will live, and instruct as well as delight as long as it lives.

SENTENCES FOR REFLECTION.

THERE is nothing whereby thou mayest sooner discern a man to be wise or foolish, than to see how he behaveth in adversity; and how he reapeth profit by sickness.

Thou mayest have the speculation of things, and the method how to effect them; yet if thou wantest diligence, courage, and address for execution, thou wilt do nothing.

Thou art of a good spirit, if thou canst meet thy enemy without hatred; and return him kindness (where it can be) instead of revenge.

To reform all others, and set them right, is impossible : what hast thou to do, but to despise all little capricious humours, and amend thyself?

If thou desirest the love of God and man, be humble; for the proud heart, as it loveth none but itself, so is it beloved by none but by itself.

Be not so wedded to thy own opinion as to think none can be in the right but thou. Why may not another claim the same liberty to judge of thine?

Let thy prayers for temporal things be always with a