spar; a man whose sense of honour, whose generosity of spirit, and whose frank and free humour was unequal led: I loved him as a brother. by me, and smiled upon me, Ray- Old Martin here paused; and his emotions were so overpowering, that he rushed out of the apartment. I wept at the fate of my friend like an infant; and soon fretted myself into a slumber which, contrary to my expectations, was sound and refreshing. I awoke from some cause or other about the middle of the night, nor did I again feel inclined to sleep; I therefore raised myself up on my truckle bed and looked around. The mild beams of the moon flooded round the small chamber, and rendered every thing plain and dis--but you shall see as far as my tinct. It was hung round with nets and small plaited spears, with here and there a dusty seal-skin cap and blue jacket; and on the floor were laid some rudelyfashioned chests and other lumber. As I was gazing upon these objects, t : so light, so noiseless, that I could not hear its approacli: it stood power extends; arise, and follow me." I obeyed him. We passed through another apartment, there lay old Skelder sleeping; his breathing seemed, however, to stop; and the hair bristled up on the back of the whining dog that lay at his feet, as the spirit passed. The door flew open, and we stood in the open air; we passed along till we came to a remarkably green patch of ground. Here the spirit paused; I watched its slow and solemn movements in speechless awe. It raised its head upwards toward heaven, and that smiling heaven seemed to grow brighter as the pure and etherial being gazed upon it. The ground at our feet now began to move and tremble, the grass blades untwined and separated, and a yawning chasm lay open before us; I looked down it; it seemed a gradual sloping descent, as far as it was visible, to which there was no termination. The spirit descended, and I followed; we passed on long in utter darkness, and seemed to be penetrating the very bowels of the earth, when suddenly a dazzling brilliant flash of light burst upon us, almost too intense for mortal eye to bear; we still kept on, and the light grew brighter and brighter, and the fissure in the earth widened each instant. We now emerged into a vast illimitable hall, silent, but shining with reflected light; it was hot and stifling; but no sounds were heard, not so much as the tread of my footsteps; it seemed the hall of death. The vasty walls were of clear bright beaming chrystal, and one immense METEMPSYCOSIS; OR, THE DOCTRINE OF THE TRANSMIGRATION OF SOULS. IT is well known that the Metempsycosis, or the doctrine of the transmigration of the soul into the body of some animal, is believed in several Pagan nations. Pythagoras, who taught this doctrine, derived it from Egypt, or the Indies. Those, who profess it, think that their future state will be happy or miserable, according to their conduct whilst they continued in their human shape. The Bramins pretend to understand a science, called Kurrembey pack, by which they divine the character of a man in his first state of existence, and they prescribe a particular expiation for every crime. This art is divided into four kinds, and several examples of each may be found in the Ayeen Akberry, from which are taken the following ex tracts: "Fever is the punishment for having killed an innocent Kheterie. Treatment. -Repeat a hundred times the incantation of Mahadeo, maintain thirteen Bramins, and sprinkle the image of Ma hades one hundred times with water. "A wife, whose husband dies before her, having been, before her marriage, of a high family, and leaving it to live herself, when he dies. Treatment.— with a stranger, for whom she burns She must pass her life in religious severities, or bury herself in snow. "A wife, whose children are all girls, is punished for having been too proud in her former existence, and for not being respectful enough to her husband. Treatment.-After having covered a white ox with cloth of gold, she must maintain 100 Bramins. "The wicked, who have committed many sins, are exposed to all sorts of diseases. He who has robbed a Bramin, has whitlows on his nails; he who drinks strong liquors, has black teeth; the murderer of a Bramin, the marasma; a liar, stinking breath; a stealer of corn, pains in his limbs; a stealer of cloths, the leprosy; a stealer of horses is lame, &c." According to this doctrine, it is necessary to expiate one's crimes during life; for if not, we shall be born again with disgraceful marks of it. ON THE GENIUS OF SPENSER, AND THE SPENSERIAN SCHOOL OF POETRY. "Through Pope's soft song though all the graces breathe, Our happiest art adorn his attic page; Yet does my mind with sweetest transport glow, As, at the root of mossy trunk reclined, In magic Spenser's wildly warbled song, I see deserted Una wander wide, Through wasteful solitudes, and lurid heaths, THE admirers of Spenser are more numerous at present than they have been at any former period; indeed, so numerous are they, that our language seems in some danger of being broken into two dialects by them. In a great portion of our modern poetry we have the idiom, phraseology, and diction of Spenser; so that if this rage should happen to continue to the middle of the present century, it is a question whether we shall not have a dialect peculiarly appropriated to poetry, and clearly distinct from the language of prose. Two questions, therefore, naturally present themselves to us at setting out, which are not only of importance in themselves, but inseparably blended with an inquiry into the genius of Spenser. The first is, whether the encreased admiration of Spenser should be attributed to the improved taste of the present day, or to one of those revolutions in literature which are brought about by silent and imperceptible causes; causes which, though slow in their operations, are eternally impressing a new character on the literature of every age. In attempting to resolve this question, it is obvious we do not digress from the nature of our proposed subject; for we cannot tell how far the admiration of Spenser is just, without investigating, at the same time, the extent and character of his intellectual endow ments. The second question naturally arises from the first; admitting the superiority of Spenser's genius, and the justice of the admiration in Warton's Pleasures of Melancholy. which he is held, would it still be wise or natural to adopt his style and manner at present? The qualities of style, which confer excellence on poetry, are so numerous, that no one writer was ever known to excel in them all. It is not, however, to be supposed that a poem cannot be excellent unless it possess the whole aggregate of these qualities. The qualities which constitute the excellence of one poem, cannot be transferred to a poem of a different nature. The excellence of Butler's Hudibras consists in its wit: the excellence of Pope's Eloisa to Abelard consists in its pathos. The pathos of Eloisa, however, cannot be transferred to Hudibras, nor the wit of Hudibras imparted to Eloisa, without destroying the excellence of both. It would, therefore, be absurd to say that Hudibras excels Eloisa to Abelard, because it has more wit, or that Eloisa excels Hudibras, because it is more pathetic. Accordingly, if we would form a proper idea of Spencer's genius, particularly that idea which will enable us to form a just comparison between him and others, we must enquire what are the qualities of style that properly constitute the excellence of the subjects in which he engaged, and how far he has attained these qualities of perfection. In estimating afterwards his comparative merits, it is obvious, from the reasons which I have already assigned, that he must be compared only with such poets as engaged in similar or kindred subjects with himself; and who, consequently, should have displayed the same qualities of excellence. To say that he excels Butler, for instance, because he has more nature and simplicity, is, I shall not hesitate to assert, downright absurdity; because Butler intended that his errant knight should have neither one nor other of these qualities. Absurd, however, as it may be to compare Spenser and Butler with each other, it is on the same principle of absurdity that so many critics of the present day prefer Spenser to Pope, and the romantic school of Spenser to the classic school of Pope and Addison. In calling this principle absurd, I am aware I impeach the infallability of the first critics of the age, but I am not fearful of the result. I have said what I meant, and I am prepared to support it. To proceed, then, in our inquiry, I shall examine what qualities of style properly belong to the "Fairy Queen," and how far these qualities are met with in that poem. I confine myself to the "Fairy Queen," because it is the poem on which his poetical fame is founded, and which is chiefly quoted by all his admirers. My limits will not permit me to extend my observations to his other poems; but the reader must perceive that they are as applicable to the one as to the other. The "Fairy Queen," is a series of love adventures alternately retarded and promoted by magic plots and chivalric deeds. The scenes are chiefly laid in the country, a circumstance which gives frequent opportunities of descriptive scenery. The characters are in general of royal or noble parentage, and engaged in great and arduous designs. Here then is the subject of the "Fairy Queen.' Let us now see what are the qualities which constitute the excellence of such a poem. The first quality appears to be that which most happily describes the emotions of love, which speaks the language of the heart, and paints, in glowing colours, the sacred thrill of kindred sympathies. Magic plots, and chi valric deeds, require a strong and vigorous imagination; while descriptive scenery requires a microscopie attention to the appearances of na ture, and a corresponding simplicity of manner in describing these ap. pearances, exactly as they present themselves to the imaginative facn lties. With the language of love, the first of these qualities, Spenser was evidently unacquainted; though he represents the Red Cross Knight encountering danger in all its terrific and subduing aspects for the love of fair Una, not a word passes between these devoted lovers, but what they might express in the presence of the world. It is from their actions alone we can discover they had any regard for each other, but each of them appears to have been too proud, stately, and unbending ; too much of a Gothic character, to suffer his affections to be known to the other. There is every reason to believe that the stately pedantry of feudal times, when every man was a lord or a vassal, an imperious ruler, or an abject slave, proved not merely a restraint to the free exercise and expression of natural affection, but extinguished, in a very great degree, those congenial sympathies which unite kindred spirits in the bonds of love, wherever the heart is left to the free and unrestrained im-* pulse of its own spontaneous emo tions. If so, it is but fair to attri bute Spenser's failure to the vices of the time in which he wrote. It is certain that in feudal times we hear of more heroism and chivalry enlisted on the side of females, and of defenceless innocence, than we can boast of at present; but are we equally certain, that the human breast was then capable of a purer love, and a tenderer affection, than belongs to the degenerate progeny of the nineteenth century? Of this we have great doubt; and we doubt also, whether the heroism and romantic bravery, then displayed, was not rather the effect of that unculti vated, barbarian pride, that haughty, unsocial, and uncompromising spirit, which was the generation of igno rance and intellectual gloom, than the offspring of those milder affections, which characterise our com merce with the fair sex at present! Asavage, ferocious spirit is, by its very nature, inclined to a turbulent, and tumultous life; the homely sweets of peace, the elegant delights of retirement, the secret charms of science, the kindling raptures of the bright-eyed muse, the softer attrac ་ tions of those arts and intellectual pursuits, which subdue the grosser propensities of our nature, which win the soul to chaster contemplation, and refine the senses with more exquisite sympathies, were totally unknown to the chivalrous heroes of the sixteenth century. If they frequently fought in defence of innocence, it is a proof that innocence was then more frequently in danger than it is at present, a circumstance which could only arise from the brutal and untamed ferocity of the times. It may also be added, that if innocence stood in no need of their protection, they would not still have desisted from fighting. 'Duels were so common in France, even in the beginning of the seventeenth century, when Spenser was no more, that Houssaie in his Memoires Historiques, Vol. II. p. 259, informs us, that the first news inquired for every morning when the people met in the streets or public places, were generally, Who fought yesterday? And in the afternoon, Who has fought this morning? If the celebrated Bouteville heard any person extol the bravery of another, even in the most familiar conversation, he immediately addressed him in these words: "Sir, I am told you are a brave fellow; we must fight toge ther." There remained no alternative but a duel, or the most insulting abuse. That the language of love, and the expression of native feeling should be unknown at such a time, is not at all surprising; and, therefore, true criticism will refer Spenser's failure, in pourtraying the softer affections, to the vices of the time in which he wrote. In making this concession, however, we concede more to his admirers than they can justly claim. Warton who, we believe, was the first to bring him into repute, and who prefers him to Pope, founds his preference on a comparison between the "Fairy Queen," and the "Rape of the Lock." From the former he derives "sweeter transport" than from the latter, because he finds more of nature in beholding de serted Una wandering forlorn through wasteful solitudes, than in beholding "the fated fair," in the Rape of the Lock," launching "in ་་ all the lustre of brocade." "I have already shewn the absurdity of comparing poems of a different character, which always require a different treatment, to give them all that excellence of which they are capable. The scenes of nature, it is true, are more fre quently placed before us in the former than in the latter of these poems; but Mr. Warton and all his followers must be well aware, that the design of the Rape of the Lock" was to expose the follies of fashionable life, and, consequently, that Pope was prevented, by the very nature of the poem, to embellish it with the "wasteful solitudes and lurid heaths," that so peculiarly belonged to the wild and romantic character of the "Fairy Queen." To introduce rural scenes and natural affections into the "Rape of the Lock," would be, in fact, to thrust nature out of it altogether; for nothing can be natural and im proper at the same moment; and nothing could be more improper, nothing more at variance with the design of the " Rape of the Lock," than those descriptions of nature, the absence of which is so much regretted by Mr. Warton and his followers. His criticism is not, therefore, worth repeating, though it has been echoed, over and over again, by the disciples of the Spenserian school. If Spenser owes his fame to the love-lorn Una, why not estimate the fame of Pope by the love-lorn Eloisa? Why not select from his poetical works such a poem as would bear a comparison with the "Fairy Queen?" Does Una excite a warmer transport than the impassioned Eloisa? Does she breathe a tenderer love, or a purer affection? Are the secret operations of a wounded spirit, a heart entangled in the witcheries of love, more deeply probed, more naturally delineated, or more clearly unveiled, in the "Fairy Queen," than in Pope's Eloisa? If they be, give Spenser the prize of poetic pre-eminence; but whoever thinks they are, has never consulted his own feelings, and is, therefore, unqualified to offer any opinion on the subject. He' merely thinks so, because he has been told so by others; but the slave of authority is not worth consulting. Pope is as much superior to Spenser, in the language of love, as Shakspeare |