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That constellation set, the world in vain
Must hope to look upon their like again.

A. Are we then left-B. Not wholly in the dark :
Wit now and then, struck smartly, shows a spark,
Sufficient to redeem the modern race
From total night and absolute disgrace.
While servile trick and imitative knack
Confine the million in the beaten track,
Perhaps some courser who disdains the road,
Snuffs up the wind and flings himself abroad.

Contemporaries all surpassed, see one,
Short his career, indeed, but ably run;
CHURCHILL, himself unconscious of his powers,
In penury consumed his idle hours,
And, like a scattered seed at random sown,
Was left to spring by vigour of his own.
Lifted at length, by dignity of thought
And dint of genius, to an affluent lot,
He laid his head in LUXURY's soft lap,
And took, too often, there his easy nap.
If brighter beams than all he threw not forth,
'Twas negligence in him, not want of worth.
Surly and slovenly, and bold and coarse,
Too proud for art and trusting in mere force,
Spendthrift alike of money and of wit,
Always at speed, and never drawing bit,
He struck the lyre in such a careless mood,
And so disdained the rules he understood,
The laurel seemed to wait on his command,
He snatched it rudely from the Muse's hand.

Nature exerting an unwearied power,
Forms, opens, and gives scent to every flower,
Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads
The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads,
She fills profuse ten thousand little throats
With music, modulating all their notes,
And charms the woodland scenes, and wilds unknown,
With artless airs and concerts of her own;

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But seldom (as if fearful of expense)
Vouchsafes to man a poet's just pretence-
Fervency, freedom, fluency of thought,

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Harmony, strength, words exquisitely sought;
Fancy that from the bow that spans the sky,
Brings colours dipped in Heaven, that never die;
A soul exalted above Earth, a mind
Skilled in the characters that form mankind;

705 And as the sun in rising beauty dressed, Looks to the westward from the dappled east, And marks whatever clouds may interpose, Ere yeť his .race begins, its glorious close; An eye like his to catch the distant goal,

710 Or .ere the wheels of verse begin to roll, Like his to shed illuminating rays On every scene and subject it surveys: Thus graced, the man asserts a poet's name, And the world cheerfully admits the claim.

715 Pity Religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetic ground ! The flowers would spring where'er she deigned to stray, And every Muse attend her in her way. Virtue indeed meets many a rhyming friend,

720 And many a compliment politely penned, But unattired in that becoming vest Religion weaves for her, and half undressed, Stands in the desert shivering and forlorn, A wintry figure, like a withered thorn.

725 The shelves are full, all other themes are sped, Hackneyed and worn to the last flimsy thread; Satire has long since done his best, and curst And loathsome Ribaldry has done his worst, Fancy has sported all her powers away

730 In tales, in trifles, and in children's play; And 'tis the sad complaint, and almost true, Whate'er we write, we bring forth nothing new. 'Twere new indeed to see a bard all fire, Touched with a coal from Heaven, assume the lyre, 735

And tell the world, still kindling as he sung,
With more than mortal music on his tongue,
That He who died below, and reigns above,
Inspires the song, and that his name is Love.
For, after all, if merely to beguile,

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By flowing numbers and a flowery style,
The tædium that the lazy rich endure,
Which now and then sweet Poetry may cure,
Or, if to see the name of idol self,
Stamped on the well-bound quarto, grace the shelf, 745
To float a bubble on the breath of Fame,
Prompt his endeavour, and engage his aim,
Debased to servile purposes of Pride,
How are the powers of genius misapplied !
The gift whose office is the Giver's praise,

750 To trace Him in his word, his works, his ways ! Then spread the rich discovery, and invite Mankind to share in the divine delight; Distorted from its use and just design, To make the pitiful possessor shine,

755 To purchase, at the fool-frequented fair Of Vanity, a wreath for self to wear, Is profanation of the basest kind Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind. A. Hail, Sternhold then, and, Hopkins, hail ! B. Amen.

760 If Flattery, Folly, Lust, employ the pen; If Acrimony, Slander, and Abuse, Give it a charge to blacken and traduce; Though Butler's wit, Pope's numbers, Prior's ease, With all that Fancy can invent to please,

765 Adorn the polished periods as they fall, One madrigal of theirs is worth them all.

A. 'Twould thin the ranks of the poetic tribe, To dash the pen through all that you proscribe,

B. No matter ;-we could shift when they were not; 770 And should, no doubt, if they were all forgot.

THE PROGRESS OF ERROR.

• Si quid loquar audiendum.'

Hor. Lib. iv. Od. 2.

[ARGUMENT :-Origin of error, 1-Man endowed with free will, 23– Motives for action, 45-Allurements of pleasure, 57–Music, 63—The chase, 82—Such amusements unsuited to the clergy, 96—Occiduus, 124 -Force of example, 142—Sabbath desecration, 152—Cards and dancing, 169-Drunkenness and trifling, 199—Gluttony, 209–Virtuous pleasures, 243—Excess in pleasure pernicious, 269–Corrupt works of imagination, 307–Lord Chesterfield, 335-Importance of early education, 353– Foreign travel, 369-Accomplishments in the place of virtues, 417– Qualifications of the Biblical critic, 452—Power of the Press, 460– Effects of enthusiasm, 470_Partiality of authors for their literary progeny, 516--The dunce impatient of contradiction, 536–Moral and intellectual errors produce each other, 564-Force of habit, 580.]

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SING, Muse, (if such a theme, so dark, so long,
May find a Muse to grace it with a song)
By what unseen and unsuspected arts
The serpent Error twines round human hearts;
Tell where she lurks, beneath what flowery shades,
That not a glimpse of genuine light pervades,
The poisonous, black, insinuating worm
Successfully conceals her loathsome form.
Take, if ye can, ye careless and supine,
Counsel and caution from a voice like mine !
Truths that the theorist could never reach,
And observation taught me, I would teach.

Not all whose eloquence the fancy fills,
Musical as the chime of tinkling rills,

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Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend,
Can trace her mazy windings to their end,
Discern the fraud beneath the specious lure,
Prevent the danger, or prescribe the cure.
The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear,
Falls soporific on the listless ear;
Like quicksilver, the rhetoric they display
Shines as it runs, but grasped at, slips away.

Placed for his trial on this bustling stage,
From thoughtless youth to ruminating age,
Tree in his will to choose or to refuse,
Man may improve the crisis, or abuse;
Else, on the fatalist's unrighteous plan,
Say to what bar amenable were man?
With naught in charge, he could betray no trust,
And if he fell, would fall because he must;
If Love reward him, or if Vengeance strike,
His recompense in both unjust alike.
Divine authority within his breast
Brings every thought, word, action, to the test;
Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains,
As Reason, or as Passion, takes the reins.
Heaven from above, and Conscience from within,
Cry in his startled ear, ‘Abstain from sin !
The world around solicits his desire,
And kindles in his soul a treacherous fire,
While, all his purposes and steps to guard,
Peace follows Virtue as its sure reward,
And Pleasure brings as surely in her train,
Remorse, and Sorrow, and vindictive Pain.

Man thus endued with an elective voice,
Must be supplied with objects of his choice;
Where'er he turns, enjoyment and delight,
Or present, or in prospect, meet his sight;
Those open on the spot their honeyed store,
These call him loudly to pursuit of more.
His unexhausted mine, the sordid vice
Avarice shows, and virtue is the price;

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