trast in representing, in comparision, the characters of saints and sinners?-&c. &c. &c.?

There is no very material inequality, we think, between any two of the sermons, or between one and another of the several portions of the series, as founded respectively on the characters of the Asiatic churches. If on a comparison a preference were to be given to any particular portion, we should perhaps deem some parts of the discourses on the verses respecting the church at Sardis, fully as much adapted to usefulness as any other part of the course. The strain, however, of forcible admonition and exhortation, (a strain which must have had great effect, we should think, in the actual address to a large assembly,) is maintained through many parts also of the other sermons. It is, indeed, a prevailing characteristic of the book. The Preacher's way is, if we may so express it, to drive his appeals and inculcations home, in a direct, unceremonious, and rather rough manner. It is nearly indifferent from what page we transcribe a specimen indicative of the rank, in point of thinking and language, to which he belongs. In any portion almost of the volume, the reader finds the course of the sentiment and diction proceeding in a style equal to that of such passages as the following:

But what! is all this a visionary description? Is it only the picture of a fanciful imagination? Is it the recital of a pleasing dream? Is it not enthusiasm rather than religion? Ah! many of us know that it is not fiction but fact. It is not the recital of a vain dream but of a blessed reality. We remember the days of our espousals to Christ; we remember the solitary peaceful walks we enjoyed, the pleasurable hours we spent in retirement,-the interesting and instructive books we read, the holy pleasures we experienced,-the lively hopes we cherished, and the Heavenly felicity we anticipated:-yes, we still remember, how sweetly did the weeks pass away, while Jesus and his love engaged our thoughts, and our tongues, and our hearts. Did we then err in our judgment? Did we overrate religion? Did we set too high a value upon our souls, and make too much of eternity? No. Nor was this possible. Alas! that ever our negligence and indifference should have caused us at any time to experience a painful and distressing reverse!'

"My hearers,-How are things between God and your souls? How far have we described the state of your experience? Bring the features of the character we have drawn, close to your hearts, and endeavour to ascertain what resemblance the likeness bears to yourselves.' There are two witnesses present who know what is the state of religion in each Christian-God, and conscience. Ah! are not some of our hearers conscious that, in them, "the things which remain are ready to die"? One is saying, Alas! I have experienced a lamentable reverse in the state of religion in my soul. There was a time when I was more alive to God than now-I was less anxious about terres

trial things I could more patiently bear afflictions and trials—I heard the gospel with delight and profit-I enjoyed communion with Jesus in the exercises of secret prayer and devout meditation;-but now my heart is cold-my course is irregular-my soul is lean, and barren, and unhappy. Often the sight of my neglected Bible covers me with a blush of guilt.'

The doctrine of personal holiness, or internal sanctification, is exploded by some professors of Christianity, supposing it detracts from the glory of Christ. They affirm, that Christians have holiness in Christ, but none in themselves;-that sanctification, as well as justification, is imputed. Before regeneration we had no holiness in ourselves, but surely, subsequent to our becoming "new creatures in Christ Jesus," we must necessarily be the subjects of holiness. Can a man be "one spirit with the Lord," and not possess holiness? Can we conceive of spiritual life in the soul without the sanctification of its faculties and affections? But, it seems, we are not to look for any thing in ourselves from which to derive encouragement or consolation, but to look for every thing in Christ. Self-examination, then, in order to ascertain if we "be in the faith," is altogether unnecessary, and the exhortation which the Apostle Paul urges upon Christians, to examine themselves, is quite superfluous. Opposed as some professors of the gospel are to personal sanctification, they will one day find that, "without holiness no man shall see the Lord," as his Redeemer and everlasting portion. Our Lord describes his disciples as "poor in spirit," meek"-" merciful"—" peace-makers"-" hungering and thirsting after righteousness". mourners"-" pure in heart." Is there no holiness in those that answer to this description? Can all these moral virtues be possessed by a person who is destitute of internal sanctification?'

It was not within the Preacher's design to adventure any speculation on the prophetical character of the book of Revelation, or on any predictive references, excepting the moral and judicial ones, to be found in the introductory chapters. His object was simply to expand, to illustrate in particulars, and to enforce in a train of religious and moral instructions, the powerful sentences of censure, warning, and excitement addressed to the seven churches,-constituting as they do, one of the most solemn, commanding, and magnificent communications that ever proceeded from even the Supreme Dictator himself.

The Author has prefixed to the respective portions of the course, short accounts of the present state of the places where those churches once existed. In the first of these notices, we think he is a little hard upon our inquisitive classical modern travellers. Most of them,' he remarks,' appear to have been 'far more concerned to explore, and to publish to the world, the 'antiquities of Heathenism than the antiquities of Christianity; that information which would be most gratifying to Christian 'readers, is generally sought for in vain in their works.' It may be too much to affirm that some of those gentlemen would VOL. XIV. N. S.

not have felt more interest about the antiquities of the heathens than about those of the Christians, even if the latter had left any monuments and vestiges for examination. But as the case stands, what is there for them, as antiquaries, to explore? It is a matter of some historical interest, that there was once a Christian society at Ephesus or Smyrna; and it might be worth some research in books to ascertain the time and circumstances of its extinction. But the local investigations of the antiquarian traveller have constantly for their immediate object, something now existing, which he endeavours to connect with ancient history, in order to render both more intelligible. It were mere folly to go to a particular spot for the purpose of writing the history of people that once lived there, when there is now nothing remaining on it that has the smallest relation to them. The ancient heathens, on the contrary, have left something illustrative of their character, taJents, superstitions, and periods of greatness and decline, in the ruins of temples, mausoleums, and aqueducts. Primitive Christianity gave far different occupation to its disciples; but therefore it precluded them from creating the means and causes of visible, striking, permanent association between themselves and the places where they made their transient sojourn on earth.— The relics monumental of the ancient heathens are, besides, in what are called the classical regions, of great interest regarded as subjects of taste, as productions displaying knowledge, art, and genius.

:

Art. VI. The River Duddon, a Series of Sonnets: Vaudracour and Julia and other Poems. To which is annexed, a Topographical Description of the Country of the Lakes, in the North of England. By William Wordsworth. 8vo. pp. 321. London. 1820.

THIS publication is designed to form, together with "The Thanksgiving Ode," "The Tale of Peter Bell," and "The Waggoner," the third and last volume of the Author's Miscellaneous Poems. Mr. Wordsworth appears to be satisfied that he has written enough; quite enough, at least, for the illustration of his theory, which if the Public do not by this time understand or appreciate, it is not his fault: with this volume, therefore, the indignant Author closes his metrical labours. But a poet has lived too long, who has written quite enough. Measured by this rule, Mr. Wordsworth's literary existence has long touched upon superannuation: the Author of the Excursion is almost forgotten in the Author of Peter Bell, and the Poet's warmest admirers are beginning to be ashamed of standing out for the genius of a man who, whether in the wantonness of selfconceit, or from infirmity of judgement, could, in an age of brilliant competition like the present, deem such productions as

those worthy of the Press. It is evident that Mr. Wordsworth has felt the universal ridicule which they brought upon him, from the manner in which he calls upon his friend Peter, in the following sonnet, not to mind the naughty critics. It is entitled, a Sonnet on the detraction which followed the publication of a certain poem. See Milton's Sonnet,' it is added, beginning "A Book was writ of late called Tetrachordon." We shall

see into that matter presently.

A Book came forth of late called, "Peter Bell;"
Not negligent the style;-the matter? good
As aught that song records of Robin Hood,
Or Roy, renowned through many a Scottish dell;
But some (who brook these hacknied themes full well,
Nor heat, at Tam o' Shanter's name, their blood)
Wax'd wroth, and with foul claws, a harpy brood--
On Bard and Hero clamorously fell.

Heed not, wild Rover once through heath and glen
Who mad'st at length the better life thy choice,
Heed not such onset! nay, if praise of men
To thee appear not an unmeaning voice,
Lift up that grey-haired forehead, and rejoice
In the just tribute of thy Poet's pen!'

Mr. Wordsworth has very frequently puzzled us before, now by the equivocal character of his lighter productions: his gravity is often so facetious, and his humour is often so grave, that we have been at a loss to know whether to take him as in jest or in earnest. This is the case with the above lines. We should certainly have supposed from the reference to Milton's burlesque sonnet, that Mr. Wordsworth meant on this occasion to be jocose. But on looking the Poet steadfastly in the face while addressing his friend Peter in the latter half of the sonnet, we could not discern the least relaxation of feature that betrayed a latent smile, and were compelled to conclude that he was in very sober earnest. Now, if we are right, it seems unaccountable why the reader should be referred to Milton's sonnet at all, unless Mr. Wordsworth, in whom we have frequently observed a sort of half-concealed fidgetty ambition to be taken for a cousin-german of the great patriot-bard, has really, in the simplicity of his miud, mistaken the character of that jeu d' esprit. Some persons had, it seems, laughed at the Greek title of Milton's treatise, just as the public were diverted at the title of Peter Bell. Thus far the parallel holds. But we do not learn that the public laughed at Milton's book, and he could not, therefore, have been seriously hurt at the jokes passed upon a word on the titlepage.' It afforded him however, as he thought, a good occasion for turning the joke upon his polemical assailants, on the ground of the far more uncouth and cacophonous combination of vocables of

which their names were composed. Gordon' is evidently brought in to supply the rhyme; but Colkitto, Macdonnel, or Galasp,' those rugged names that would have made Quintilian stare and gasp,' were at that period not yet familiarized to Southern ears; and Milton, who hated every thing Scotch, and had an exquisite ear, was no doubt unaffectedly diverted at these barbarous appellatives. And then in the close of the sonnet he has a good fling at his opponents for their dislike of Greek, which was the only sin of his title.

Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,

When thou taught'st Cambridge, and King Edward, Greek.' But to descend to Mr. Wordsworth. In our notice of his Peter Bell, we had occasion to remark, that his title confirmed us in the suspicion that, as he is himself devoid of any talent for humour, so he is, through a singular simplicity of mind, insusceptible of the ludicrous. Were not this the case, he would scarcely have trusted his name and that of his friend Peter, so near that of Milton, in the present instance; nor would he have blundered in his serious imitation of a burlesque poem; nor would he have called upon Peter Bell, at least in the hearing of the public, to lift up his grey-haired forehead, and rejoice in having such a poet as our Author's eccentric self, to write about him; nor, lastly, would he have been now at any loss to know why the formal annunciation of a poem with such a title, and coming from Mr. Wordsworth, should have excited more merriment than the title of the thrilling and matchless "Tam a Shan"ter" of a poet who could not be ridiculous.

We take it, however, as a good sign, that Mr. Wordsworth has been made sensible of the fact, that the public do not wish for any more Peter Bells. How depraved soever their taste, how unjust soever their ridicule, the thing will not do again. And he seems determined to please the lovers of euphony this time by at least half of his titlepage, by the melodious names of Vaudracour and Julia. The River Duddon' stands boldly forward, indeed, in defiance of all ludicrous associations; but it has had this name given it, and cannot help itself. We question whether Mr. W. does not think it the most sweetly sounding title of the two.

The contents of the volume are very miscellaneous. A third part is occupied with the topographical description of the Lake country; and it forms by no means the least valuable portion. The Notes to the Sonnets contain a prose memoir of the Rev. Robert Walker, curate of Seathwaite, the abstract of whose character is given in "The Excursion." He appears to have been a man of very singularly primitive character, and incomparably more deserving of poetical honours, than most of our