All look'd upon the object near,
That seem'd the cause of Albert's fear:
None knew his person, nor his name,
Whence he had come, with whom he came;
All shudder'd, as they each address'd
His neighbour, "who might be that guest?"
And he, with glance of eye so bright
As to outvie the torches' light,

Was gazing on the luckless swain,
Who ne'er on earth shall breathe again!
Yes-he has fall'n, and breath'd his last,
His latest sigh is giv'n and past:
From bliss to sudden woe the turn
Came on so rapid and so stern,
His heart, too much elate with joy,

Broke 'neath that glance, which could destroy,
For ne'er was such unearthly light-
And this was Albert's wedding night!

"TIS THE IMMORTAL!" one and all
Cri'd out together in that hail!-

"It is th' Immortal!" he replied,"

"

By whom this night has Albert died.
"Is not the scene a sport full rare ?
"Go-gaze upon the body there,

"And learn that he, who dares my wrath,
"Shall thus be cut off in his path !—
"And you, young maiden, and your sire,
"That thus have mark'd your friend expire,
"Record in letters bright the thing,
"That Sarnia's island long may ring
"With mem❜ry of a deed so fell-
"Gentles, and lovely dames, farewell!"

None mov'd-and scatheless 'mid them all
Has he departed from the hall,
Leaving behind him hearts too sad,
That but an hour before were glad.-
And what of Elgitha?-She liv'd—
But how that.shock has she surviv'd?
Oh! frenzy seiz'd upon her brain,
And reason ne'er return'd again.
Still does her melancholy sprite
Ramble on Sarnia's plains by night,
And breathe unto the list'ning gale
The sad adventures of her tale! *

PARISIANUS.

*It is scarcely necessary to remark that the original idea of this wild legend, without reference to locality, was partially furnished by a passage in Melmoth, the Wanderer.

ON THE GENIUS OF EDWARD YOUNG.

THERE is no English poet to whose merits less justice has been done by critics, than Edward Young. His name, indeed, by a sort of tacit consent, is allowed to hold a high place in the literary world; but no monument of literary labour has been raised by his admirers, to perpetuate his greatness, to defend or palliate his errors. No Boswell has given to the world a detailed history of his private life and social habits; no Moore has expatiated on his beauties; and while other and inferior writers have been panegyrised and exalted to an almost superhuman dignity, by officious commentators, no elaborate and studied memorial has been inscribed to the genius of the author of the "Night Thoughts." Numerous side-winds have, indeed, favourably affected him; but never yet has the steady gale of critical admiration shed its balmy and refreshing influence on his

memory.

Johnson, whose large and vigorous mind was capable of entertaining all the bearings of whatever was submitted to his judgment, and retracing, with judicious penetration, the subject to its first principles, seems, in his criticism on Young, to have been in some measure deterred from giving a correct analysis of his poetry, by its alleged want of uniformity in manner and style. He says-" Of Young's Poems it is difficult to give any general character; for he has no uniformity of manner-one of his pieces has no great resemblance to another. He began to write early, and continued long; and at different times had different modes of poetical excellence in view. His numbers are sometimes smooth and sometimes rugged; his style is sometimes concatenated and sometimes abrupt; sometimes diffusive and sometimes concise. His plan seems to have started in his mind at the present moment; and his thoughts appear the effect of chance,-sometimes adverse, and sometimes lucky, with very little operation of judgment." And thus, because one of his pieces has no great resemblance to another, the learned Doctor finds it difficult to fix a locality for his excellence, and considers a variety of style indicative of want of judgment. This is something of the strangest. A poem which is intended to convey the feelings of sorrow and despair, as they arise in the bosom of the poet, while suffering under the loss of his best beloved, is condemned for want of judgment, because a regular and systematic classification of the passions is not laid down in methodie order. It would be singular if they were, the passions had been so methodically classed, and would justly make the author liable to censure in a far higher degree than even his commentator is pleased to assign him for the omission. But what absurdities are broached under the sanction of a great name. Had Dr. Johnson considered for a moment before he pronounced such an uncandid sentence, he would most assuredly never have laid himself open to censure for the mere sake of relieving his strong and comprehensive mind from the labour of analytic comparison.

In the Night Thoughts," it was not possible, in consistence with

the nature of the subject, to lay down a direct plan of composition, or to prescribe the boundaries of sorrow and gloom; and it cannot therefore be considered an encroachment on poetical rules, where the subject is new in the annals of poetical science. In asserting this, it is by no means meant to insinuate that grief has never been the subject of poetry, but simply that the "Night Thoughts" present a wider field, and embrace a greater diversity of subjects, than those performances of which lamentations are the only theme.

Considering the poem with reference to the peculiar position in which the author stands, we cannot then, with fairness and candour, condemn it for irregularity. The tale we hear is not the recital of by-gone griefs, of former sufferings, but we start with the poet at the very outset of his sorrows. To every pang which rends his heart, a response is felt in our own bosoms; in whatever situation we find him, we are, for the moment, as if actuated by the same emotions. He enlists our feelings on his side, and we wander on, unheeding aught save the eager desire of expressing them as they arise. To talk of order and regularity in a poem of this nature, is a palpable absurdity, and contradicts the very idea we form of expressing the sentiments of grief. It is not the object of the poet to take a prospective view of the subject of his poem, but rather to present before us thoughts as they arise in the mind; allusions and reflections of the most exalted nature, conjured up by melancholy remembrances, and a deep sense of mournful desolation. The whole poem is one of wild, irregular grandeur; but it is a wildness and irregularity which so well accords with the feelings it agitates, that any attempt at precise disposition would dissolve the charm. Indeed it possesses the strongest claim to admiration by its very irregularity.

Although Dr. Johnson, in criticising the aggregate productions of Young, has awarded him but a kind of negative praise, and that too after a very slovenly manner, considering the universal admiration bestowed on the works, yet candour compels him to admit the unusually rich and varied landscape spread before us in this divine poem. He says, "It exhibits a very wide display of original poetry, variegated with deep reflections and striking allusions, a wilderness of thought, in which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every hue and of every odour. * * The excellence of this work is not exactness, but copiousness; particular lines are not to be regarded -the power is in the whole; and in the whole there is a magnificence like that ascribed to Chinese plantations-the magnificence of vast extent and endless diversity." And this is the man whose "thoughts appear the effect of chance, sometimes adverse, and sometimes lucky, with very little operation of judgment."

Speaking of the individual poem, the Doctor is content to bestow on it the highest praise; while, in pronouncing a general opinion on the whole works, he censures the poet for want of uniformity. Now this is unfair. The " Night Thoughts" is a poem in no way professing to resemble any of the other productions of Young, but stands isolated and alone, requiring to be judged only by its own individual merits. As well might we accuse Milton of want of uniformity, because his "Paradise Lost" bears no resemblance, in style of thought

or versification, to "L'Allegro;" or censure Thomson for the same reason, because the "Seasons" differ entirely from the "Castle of Indolence." Indeed, there is no end to the catalogue; and every author, whether in prose or verse, would come in for an equal share of the learned Doctor's extraordinary reprimand.

In the whole circle of ancient and modern authors whom our country has produced, no man of true judgment will assign Young a secondary place; and yet it is almost past a doubt, that very many individuals, whose judgment is otherwise clear and discriminating, have usually condemned Young, for being what they call gloomy. He is, say they, too much inclined to picture the dark side of things; to mourn as one who hath no hope. Now this, though true in the fact, does not of necessity lead to the conclusion, that he is therefore to be regarded as a morose and cheerless speculator, whose overheated imagination, without regard to accuracy or selection, delights only in dismal meditations, and conjuring up pictures overspread with melancholy gloom! As well might they bring the like charge against Blair, because the "Grave" abounds in the most harrowing and freezing descriptions, many of which are most revolting to the feelings; but still they are undeniably so true a picture, that, in all its terrors, man only sees, as it were, an embodiment of his own imaginings. In truth, the same may be urged against almost all the more solemn productions to which the world has awarded the highest poetic honours.

Those individuals whose judgment is given before they sufficiently understand the subject, ought not to suppose a man's mind entirely enveloped in gloom, until they actually perceive some subject, which they know to be capable of conveying pleasurable sensations, to have been so distorted, as to leave the reader no alternative for his judgment. But how many are there who, without an instant's reflection, without a moment's preparation, destitute of the most superficial acquaintance with the subject, even in its most limited degree, take up the poem, and quietly leave the mind to be swayed from side to side by every illustration, until, bewildered and wearied, they give up the pursuit, and can only sufficiently understand its beauty by recalling the more prominent passages to their recollection.

To form a proper estimate of the intrinsic merits of any poem, a far different course must necessarily be pursued. We must make ourselves intimately acquainted with the relative combinations which the poet illustrates; else, it is next akin to an impossibility to appreciate, to its full extent, the process by which the author "accommodates the shows of things to the desires of the mind."* To say that the reader should be acquainted with the subject, is therefore to state an absolute necessity, in so far as a critical analysis is required. If those who charge Young with gloom, were only to look with a moment's attention on the subject of his Muse, they would at once perceive that the gloomy grandeur which pervades his poetry follows as a natural consequence of the subject; few things being so incapable

This is Lord Bacon's saying respecting poetry; and few are more appropriate in their meaning, or so often and deservedly quoted.

of the lighter and more pleasing adornments, as the consideration of human vicissitudes, and of the responsibility of the soul to its Maker.

To disprove the assertion that Young's plan of poetry is irregular, we have only to refer to his first great performance, where we shall find a degree of equability which even calls down the admiration of Johnson, who declares many of the passages to possess a high degree of splendour and nobility. This shows that his" want of uniformity of manner, and the no great resemblance one of his pieces bears to another," so far from detracting from his merits, rather adds to his praise as a man of genius, inasmuch as it awards him the credit of having excelled in different modes of composition. His merits, like those of other great men, rest solely on the degree of excellence that he has attained in composition. Without looking at the resemblance one of his poems bears to another, let us look at the merit which distinguishes each performance; and if his mind and genius shall appear to have been of such a high order as to distinguish him in more than one style of thought, it must follow, as a natural and undisputed consequence, that the degree of praise awarded to him must bear a proportionate relationship. That he excelled in more than one style of poetry, is abundantly testified by his works."The Last Day," "The Love of Fame," "Jane Gray," "Paraphrase on Job," "Resignation," "The Revenge," "The Night Thoughts," &c., sufficiently attest the grasp and compass of his mind, and the surpassing vigour of his understanding. The variety and magnitude of his images are only equalled by the admirable beauty with which they are rendered applicable to the subject, and the consummate skill with which they are worked into the narrative. The moral reflections, which distinguish his poetry above all others, are scattered throughout his works with the most unsparing bounty, and show his mind to have been deeply impressed with the knowledge which adds grace and dignity to human nature, and without which poetry loses half its charms.

Young has eclipsed almost every competitor in the cause of virtue. Religion seems to be the atmosphere which his soul most delights to breathe; and in pouring out his thoughts on man, and man's condition, he never forgets or loses sight of the connexion subsisting between our state of probation in this world, and the awfully important scenes which await us in eternity.

In all his poems, this feeling of religion more or less predominates; and even where it is not brought prominently to view, his Muse is evidently under the control of Christian love. His talent for satire displays itself in a degree so eminent, that Dr. Johnson has without hesitation assigned him a place in the very highest rank. He describes him as possessing all the gaiety of Horace, without his laxity of numbers; and the morality of Juvenal, with greater variation of images. In that great satirical performance, the "Love of Fame," he shows such brilliance, such discernment and nicety, as must at once convince the mind of a judicious observer, that but little labour on his part was wanted to constitute him one of the greatest masters of that particular style of literature. His sentences have at once a keenness and solidity rarely.equalled, and carry with them a resistless and overwhelming force, tempered with undeniable truth.