His Paraphrase on Job" is undoubtedly entitled to our highest commendations, for the admirable consistence with which the style of thought peculiar to the original poem is preserved throughout the translation. A fault often urged against those who have attempted a metrical version of this distinguished author, is their want of skill in preserving a proper balance between the metaphor and sentiment. Now, to those who are acquainted with the nature of translating the sacred authors into verse, nothing will appear to be so difficult as to maintain the metaphorical illustration in due subjection; to keep it so disposed as only to shine forth as the ornament, and not to obtrude itself as a component part of the text. It is to be reinembered, that no writings abound so much in simile as the Hebrew; and they are introduced with such bountiful magnificence as in some instances to destroy the very end at which they aim. This luxuriant abundance, therefore, presents attractions which too often lead the versifier away from his subject; and it consequently reduces the composition to the rank of mere tinsel. No writer abounds so much in metaphor as Job; and hence the increased difficulty of rendering his poetry into metre, and presenting the same style of language and thought which characterizes the original.

The taste and power of Young as a translator are eminently conspicuous in his "Paraphrase." The task is one of the utmost difficulty, and requires the greatest nicety and discrimination. The care necessary in the disposition of the metaphors, which abound to so extraordinary a degree in the most descriptive of all poets, has in no instance been more correctly or judiciously observed than in this version. It is indeed a production meriting the highest commendations, whether we look at the taste with which it is executed, or the skill displayed in bestowing on it all the ornaments of diction which his genius made it capable of receiving.*

Of the other productions of Young, it is sufficient to observe, they amply attest the vast powers of mind with which Nature had endowed him, and the noble use he made of them in the cause of religion and virtue. No poet claims a higher rank among men of wit, and few can make the same boast, of having employed that wit in the cause of truth. Of his tragic powers, the "Revenge" will sufficiently testify the esteem in which he has always been held by those who are entitled to respect for their dramatic taste.

The story of "Jane Grey" is a happy proof of the elegance with which our author could, when he pleased, deck the subjects of his choice; and, in this respect, it will bear comparison with some of the very best productions in our language; although, as Johnson observes, it never became popular; adding, archly-"Jane is too heroic to be pitied."

Without dwelling on the merits of the "Last Day," and other equally celebrated pieces, we will at once proceed to speak of his

Job has been here classed among the Hebrew poets, though it is quite evident from his writings that a different country from Palestine, and a different people from the Israelites, were witnesses of his afflictions. The scene is laid in the land of Uz, and hence he has been called an Arabian poet; though latterly some have attempted to prove him a Persian.

greatest work, and that on which his fame chiefly rests; namely, the " Night Thoughts." This divine poem, never surpassed in the sublime grandeur of its conception, and the splendour of its execution, may, and indeed ought, to be taken as the criterion whereby to judge of Young's powers as a poet. In point of sublimity, it is not only equal to every poem in our language, but superior to all, save "Paradise Lost ;" and when we say this, it is not surprising that we should feel indignant at the coolness with which Dr. Johnson describes his merits, and the indifference to his excellencies with which he sums up his character, as shown in the quotations we have made at the beginning of this paper. Although, however, this is highly objectionable, whether as regards its accuracy of analysis, or its candour of judgment, it does not quite prepare us for the concluding sentence of the criticism, in which the learned Doctor takes leave of this great poet in these words :-" His verses are formed by no certain model; he is no more like himself in his different productions than he is like others; he seems never to have studied prosody, nor to have had any direction but from his own ear; but, with all his defects, he was a man of genius, and a poet." Thus there seems to have originally been a doubt on the Doctor's mind, that Young had real pretensions to the character of a man of genius; but, with praiseworthy candour, he grants him the possession of some few, and withal adds, that he was also a poet; premising even this meagre praise with the qualification, that he had defects. Dr. Johnson could occasionally utter nonsense; but to suppose a man capable of bestowing a criticism of such a nature, where Young forms the subject, is to pay even a more degrading compliment to his powers, than to accuse him plainly of stupidity.

The care with which he has perused and criticised Savage may be excused on the score of friendship; but the neglect with which he treated Young can only be condemned as utterly unworthy of the critic or the poet. He has not indeed refused approbation to many of Young's pieces, but from such a writer, and on such a character, we look for something more than a mere general acquiescence in public opinion. Leaving Dr. Johnson and his criticism, therefore, we will examine some of the beauties of the "Night Thoughts," and discover in what Young is entitled to the praises that have been bestowed on him, and whether or not the objections urged against his poetry have their foundation in truth, or are urged only in general terms, and not founded on facts.

The "Night Thoughts" may be compared to a field abounding in a surprising variety of plants, of every hue and colour, but overshadowed with the dark cloud of despondency, surcharged with more than mortal griefs. From brooding over the sorrows which oppress his own bosom, he is led to mourn over those of the whole family of man. He becomes rapt in more than earthly cast of thought, and his lamentations are those of a superior being, mourning over the children of mortality. His prophetic spirit mounts into ætherial regions, and wanders amid "the glories of the sky," in the majesty of immortal greatness. But he does not emerge, like other poets, at once from the regions of earth into the unspeakable grandeur of

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other worlds: no! he leads us through the dark valley of the shadow of death, and presents before us the horrors which beset mortality. It would not accord with the spirit of his mighty Muse to show us the glories of eternity, without our having first been overshadowed by death's dark gloom," and passed across the unknown river, life'sdreary bounds."* He does not leave us to vague imaginings, but he presents things before us with a force and truth at once appalling to the mind, and startling to the understanding. Man is stripped and dispossessed by him of his imaginary perfections, and we see ourselves in all the naked deformity of human nature. Our passions, strong and wild, are often shown, in their impetuous course, overwhelming the barriers of virtue, and luxuriating in the delights of sensual gratification; until, alternately stung by remorse and shame, man shakes off the vile besetting síns, and seeks for consolation at the throne of the Almighty. Thus his poetry is not a spectacle for the cold front of critical inspection to gaze at, but a vast performance, in which all mankind mingles; where each passion of the human heart is traced through all its dubious windings, with a more than scientific skill, and the secret workings of the soul laid bare with such awful minuteness as to become almost physically perceptible.

Our social vices do not escape his searching glance, but are held up to our detestation, and their end and aim made despicable, when compared with the glorious pursuit of virtuous perfection. The mere man of the world, whose faculties are tied down to this narrow scene, is admirably pictured in the following lines:

"Ye sold to sense, ye citizens of earth

(For such alone the Christian bannér fly),

Know ye how wise your choice, how great your gain,
Behold the picture of earth's happiest man :

He calls his wish,-it comes; he sends it back,

And says he call'd another; that arrives,
Meets the same welcome; yet he still calls on,
Till one calls him, who varies not his call,
But holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound,
Till Nature dies, and Judgment sets him free-
A freedom far less welcome than his chain."

How finely conceived, and how exquisitely drawn! The last line especially is introduced with wonderful skill, and places at once before the mind, not only the character itself, but a beautiful and just reflection, which volumes could scarcely make more apparent to the reader's mental vision. It is not, however, by quotations that a proper estimate can be formed of Young's poetry. As Johnson very justly remarks, the power is rather in the whole; and in that whole there is the greatest magnificence. His poetry abounds in thought, and may with equal justice claim the praise which Pope has bestowed on Homer, where he describes the "Iliad" as being like "a wild paradise, a copious nursery, which contains the seeds and first productions of every kind." His similes are always grand and impres

* Burns.

sive; and in no instance does he fall into the error (in the " Night Thoughts" at least) of pursuing his illustration to a more than judicious extreme; the mind of the reader is left to fill up the space between distant allusions. This can be accomplished without difficulty; for though in some instances his allusions are somewhat obscure, yet they are never so much so as to break the train of thought passing through the mind of an attentive and intelligent reader. He alternates with great felicity, and spreads out a vast variety of images with an almost inexhaustible profusion. For instance :

"How poor! how rich! how abject! how august!
How complicate! how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such!
Who centred in our make such strange extremes!
From different natures marvellously mix'd,
Connexion exquisite of distant worlds!
Distinguished link in being's endless chain!
Midway from nothing to the Deity!
A beam ethereal, sullied and absorbed !
Though sullied and dishonoured, still divine!
Dim miniature of greatness absolute!
An heir of glory! a frail child of dust!
Helpless immortal! insect infinite!

A worm! god! I tremble at myself,

And in myself am lost! At home a stranger,
Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast,
And wond'ring at her own! How Reason reels!
O what a miracle to man is man!"

In the whole range of poetry it would be almost impossible to find such a multitude of ideas so closely assembled, and yet so admirably arranged. Language is inadequate to fill up the chasm, the "connecting link midway from nothing to the Deity ;" and with the most consummate skill the author gradually increases in grandeur, until the enlarged mind of the reader is able to comprehend what words are inadequate to supply.

Thus, from the very commencement of the "Night Thoughts" to the concluding line, does the Christian poet enchain, by his magic powers, the faculties of the mind. He leaves nothing untouched by which he may illustrate his thoughts; and whatever he touches receives fresh beauties from his pen. Animate and inanimate nature are made subservient to his will, and become, as it were, the mouths by which he addresses our understandings, through the medium of the physical senses. In every thing of which we speak, the language on all occasions should be well suited to the nature of the subject. This important rule is the more necessary to be observed where the theme is sacred or divine. In this case the language employed should be the noblest and weightiest to be found, that nothing mean or paltry may jar with the exalted ideas passing through the mind. When we mention this, we naturally recur to Milton, where the words, though the most impressive that our language contains, seem to acquire a superior grandeur when clothing the sublime thoughts of this iminortal poet. Though we do not mean in this respect to institute a comparison between the author of the "Night Thoughts

and the illustrious author of " Paradise Lost," yet we may with perfect safety assert, that Young has not been insensible to the importance of most carefully selecting his diction, and his poem sufficiently attests the anxiety with which he laboured to convey his meaning in the most impressive language.

But though he does not equal his great rival in this respect, we must not use ungenerous comparisons to detract from his merits. Milton stands at the very head of our poets for the magnificence of his style; and the reproach (if inequality with such a man can be called a reproach) must be shared alike by every author. But if precedence is to be awarded, where Dryden, Pope, and Thomson,Goldsmith, Wordsworth, and Rogers, are competitors, the unbiassed judgment would never permit Young to be superseded by even one of these mighty masters of song. We must therefore estimate Young's style by the accessible standard of our greatest bards; and leave the divine Milton in his unapproachable eminence, surrounded by his own unapproached glory in language, as the indisputed monarch in sublimity of thoughts and splendour of language. Comparing him, then, with poets of his own order, we shall find that Young, though occasionally harsh and inharmonious, has not been unsuccessful in embellishing his ideas with suitable language, and that he has succeeded, upon the whole, in conveying his thoughts in a wonderfully impressive manner.

In

There is another essential requisite of poetry of this kind, in which all must agree that Young has succeeded in a very eminent degree. This is in the character of the images he has employed. Where the theme is of a sacred nature, nothing is more absolutely necessary than the strictest care in selecting the grandest and most sublime parts of nature wherewith to adorn the subject. In this respect Young has been peculiarly happy. Throughout his whole poem we find in no instance any allusion but to the noblest images that creation can furnish. In this instance at least, he may claim comparison with any poet in any language; for in few works of imagination, except those contained in the holy Scriptures, do we find such a multitudinous assemblage of exalted and imposing illustrations. the Hebrew poetry, indeed, we are presented with such conceptions of the phenomena of nature, as are to be met with in that of no other nation. Although Homer is universally admired for his sublimity, yet Isaiah and Job, in instances almost innumerable, soar infinitely above the Bard "of Troy divine." Perhaps the reason always given for Milton's superiority over Homer and Virgil, in majesty of thought, may be considered as correct when it is attributed to his full acquaintance with that volume in which the wonders of God and his creation are treated of with a power which no mortal mind save his own has equalled. In British poetry we look in vain for a single individual who has come so near the divine author of "Paradise Lost" as Young. Some indeed there are, who may justly contest the claim in particular passages; but taking the "Night Thoughts" as a poem, it undoubtedly is entitled to the praise of maintaining a more elevated course throughout, and with greater equality.

After saying so much of his beauties, it may be expected that we should now advert to Young's faults. Many and various are the cen