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Othou that, with surpassing glory crown'd,
Look'st from thy fole dominion like the god
Of this new world, at whose fight all the stars
Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O Sun, to tell thee how l hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.

We cannot leave Milton, without pointing out other paffages that are as sublime as those we have already quoted : for fuch are his undrawn chariots that inove by instinét; his everlasting gates of heaven, that felf-open'd wide on golden hinges moving ; and the Mefiah attended by angels, looking down into Chaos, calming its confusion, and drawing the first out-lines of the creation ; which is thus happily described.

On heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore
They view’d the vast immeafurable abyss,
Outrageous as a fea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turn’d by furious winds
And furging waves, as mountains to affault
„Heav'n's height, and with the centre mixthe pole.
Silence ye troubled waves, and thou deep, peace,
Said then th' omnific word, your discord end:
Nor staid, but on the wings of cherubim
Up-lifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn ;
For Chaos heard his voice : him all his train
Followed in bright procession to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepar'd
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe

This universe, and all created things:
One foot he center’d, and the other turn'd
Round through the vast profundity obscure,
And faid, thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World.

The description he has given us of the angel Raphael is likewife nobly conceived, and finely delineated.

Six wings he wore, to fhade
His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each shoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breast
With regal ornament; the middle pair
Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round
Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold
And colours dipp’d in heav'n ; the third his feet
Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail,
Sky-tiņćtur'd grain ! Like Maia's fon he stood, **
And shook his plumes, that heav'nly fragrance fill'd
The circuit wide

There is fomething fingularly sublime and beautiful in the following paflage, transcribed from a poem, entituled, The Omni/cience of the divine Being, by Mr. Szaart.

When Philomela, ere the cold domain
Of crippled winter 'gins t'advance, prepares
Her annual flight, and in fome poplar fhade
Takes her melodious leave, who then's her pilot ?
Who points her pastage thro' the pathlefs void
To realms from trs remote, to us unknown ?
Her science is the science of her God.
Not the magnetic index to the north
E'er afcertains her course, nor buoy, nor beacon,
She, heav'n-taught voyager, that fails in air,
Courts nor coy west nor east, but instant knows
What New To N or not fought, or fought in vain *.
Illustrious name, irrefragable proof

Of man's vast genius, and the foaring foul !
Yet what wert thou to him, who knew his works,
Before creation form’d them, long before
He meafur’d in the hollow of his hand
Th' exulting ocean, and the highest heav'ns

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* The Longitude.


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It would here be unpardonable to pass over all those sublime and animated descriptions we have of the Morning; which the writers of heroic and tragic poetry have labour'd fo much to heighten and variegate, that one would think they had exerted their utmost skill and genius, to fee who could render that feason the most endearing.

Homer leads the way, and by a beautiful and well-conceived fiction, describes the morning as a goddess arrayed in a faffron robe, flying in the air, and with her rosy fingers unbarring the gates of light. She leaves the bed of Tithon her lover, arises from the fea in a golden throne to usher in the fun, or in a chariot drawn by celestial horfes, bearing with her the day, and is preceded by a star, which is her harbinger, and gives fignal of her approach.

Virgil follows Homer, and never loses fight of him, as will appear by the following descriptions.

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Taffo had most probably Homer or Virgilin view when he
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The purple morning left her crimfon bed,
And donn'd her robes of pure vermilion hue ;

Her amber locks she crown'd with rofes red,
In Eden's flow’ry gardens gather'd new.

And Spenser, who excels in description, has the fame fort of images diverfified.

Now when the rosy-finger’d morning fair,
Weary of aged Tithon's faffron bed,
Had spread her purple robes thro' dewy air,
And the high hills Titan discovered ;
The royal virgin shook off drowsy head,
And rifing forth out of her baser bower,
Look'd for her knight
–The day forth-dawning from the east,
Night’s humid curtains from the heav'ns withdrew,
And early calling forth both man and beast,
Commanded them their daily works renew.

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and though he has departed as much as posible from the beaten track, yet fome traces of the former poets may be

evidently feen.

Now morn her rofy steps in th’ eastern clime
Advancing, fow'd the earth with orient pearl.
The morn,

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Unbarr'd the gates of light
And now went forth the morn,

Such as in highest heav'n, array'd in gold Empyreal; from before her vanish'd night, Shot thro’ with orient beams No descriptions of the morning can be more animated and sublime than those of SHAKESPEAR ; yet his thoughts bear great affinity to the preceding. Look where the morn in ruffet mantle clad,

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Look, Love, what envious streaks

Do lace the fevering clouds in yonder east:
Night's tapers are burnt out, and jocund day
Standstiptoe on the misty mountain toPs.

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These pastages may be justly rank'd among grand and fublime thoughts; and though the out-lines seem to have been drawn by Homer, on which they have run their feveral divisions, yet they have all acquitted themselves, fo as to obtain the applaufe of the learned and judicious ; for men of judgment will ever confider that nature is still the fame, and that where the fame objećt is to be described, the fame thoughts, and often the fame words, will occur, if the descriptions are just and natural. We have attributed the first instance of describing the morning in this beautiful manner to Homer, yet it is to be observ'd, that there is much of this fublime imagery in the sacred writings, from whence fome hints may probably have been taken. Thus it is faid of the fun, that He cometh forth out of his chamber as a bridegroom, and exulteth as a giant who is to run his race. Befides these thoughts, which captivate with their grandeur and sublimity, there are others that equally affect us by their agreeableness or beauty. The first please, because they lave fomething great, which always charms the mind, Whereas these please only because they are agreeable.– Comparisons and descriptions, taken from florid and delightful subjećts, form agreeable thoughts, in the fame manmer as those we take from grand fubjećts form those that are sublime. - The writings of the holy penmen are replete with these thoughts; but as the beauties of the bible are in every

hand, and to be feen every day, we shall felećt what ex

amples we have room to admit from our Engli/b poets. The description, however, which Solomon has given us of Wisdom, ought not to be omitted, because it is sufficient, One would think, to make every man in love with her. Length of days are in her right band, and in ber left band riches and honour. Her ways are ways of plea/aniness, and all her paths are peace. , , , , There are many paffages in Mr. Smart's poem on the Immensity of the Supreme Being, which contain agreeable thoughts; but that of the Ring-dove's nest is, I think, remarkably fo : -* |- , 1 ( , , , ' ' ' · , : n : · · What are yon tow’rs, . . . . . . . . . . . The work of lab’ring man, and clumsy art,

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