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carefulness of one inmate provide against, or atone for, the negligence of others; and too close and unremitted an attention to self-preservation, besides that it has a tendency to degenerate into the habit of mere selfishness, is itself a demonstration of the actual evil which requires it. It is better in all cases to prevent the existence of those things that may eventually hurt us, than to suffer them to acquire it, and be prepared to resist and repel them. Such is the principle of this short treatise. Whether the number of its readers will ever receive any great addition to the very few, on whose courtesy the self-complacency of its author, or his diffidence, may have obtruded it in its inedited state, is uncertain it is less certain, whether it will impress that practical conviction which will overcome the resistance of fashion, the languor of indolence, and the dread of incurring the reproach of singularity.

The destination of the work is now cast. To have announced it in terms of such hesitation, indicates nothing very sanguine of hope in its success. The name of its author would promise as little to it, and every chance of its attracting the notice of the public by the universality and antiquity of its importance, fades before the consideration, that both have failed of their effect, in spite of their acknowledged pretensions; while those very pretensions operate with the force of precedents against them. Yet if in this attempt the author should have the good fortune to gain but a single convert to the opinion which he solicits, it is not impossible that the example may draw forth another, and by degrees others still, until fashion herself shall become the patroness of the new doctrine. And to that feeble encouragement he consigns it.

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AN ATTEMPT, &c.

THERE is a strong propensity in the best critics of the present age to underrate its poetical genius. While they bestow the most eloquent panegyrics on many of its celebrated writers, as they individually come in review before them, they often speak mournfully of the decay of ancient vigor, and represent the present advanced stage of civilization as wholly unfavorable to the production of original talent. They cling fondly to the remembrance of past times when the uncultivated hills resounded with natural melody, the last echoes of which they think are dying away for ever. Pleased with the romantic, though gloomy images, which their strong imagination connects with the decline of poetry, they seem to think either that the regions of fancy, in all their heights and depths are explored, or that we now want power to penetrate into their undiscovered solitudes. Such an idea is calculated to strike the chilness which it supposes, and to produce the servility it deprecates. It is, therefore, with the hope of assisting to counteract its impression, that we propose rapidly to sketch out the progress of the art of the poet, and to bring together into one view the distinguishing excellencies of its living votaries, in order that we may estimate its present state, and calculate upon its future advances.

If we attempt to trace the History of Poetry to its origin, to follow its consecrated streams to the fountain from which they issued, we shall find that it is enveloped in mystery. As, how ever, the earliest traces of poetical composition are to be found

in the writings of Moses, we shall coincide at once with historical evidence, and with the traditions of the remotest ages, if we deduce the feelings from which it is derived, from the inspiration which could elevate into distant periods and loftier orders of being. All the works of this oldest and most divine of historians are filled with the elements of poetry, and abound with majesty and grandeur suitable to the great subjects with which they are pregnant. Over the whole of his beautiful narrations an air of unearthly sanctity is breathed, which renders them unspeakably venerable; while the wider and more marvellous descriptions, such as those of the creation and the deluge, are replete with a sublimity far beyond the powers of mortal expression. The most extensive and varied scenes are struck into our view by a single figure as lit up from total darkness by a sudden flash of divine glory. A word fills our expanding imagination with the immense profundity and eternal silence of chaos-another with the full prospect of a goodly world, surrounded by unclouded æther and fresh with the purities of a Paradise hallowed by celestial visitants. Nor is there among all the verdant regions of fancied loveliness, a spot in which the heart so delights to repose as amidst his beautiful records of domestic history, which introduce us into the retirements of patriarchal days. In these enchanting narratives there is a flow of natural affections-an unbosoming of the kindliest feelings-an humble and exquisite pathos--and a simplicity inimitable in its holiness, which might win the coldest heart of a sceptic to involuntary adoration and rapture. But not to attempt a faint echo of the feelings which the humblest in human knowledge most fondly delight to cherish; it is sufficient to observe that these rich stores of divine genius probably formed the bright model of those compositions, which, in all ages of the world, have refined and exalted the character of man-called forth his finest sympathies-raised him to a nearer union with his maker, and united him in a closer kindred with his species.

The subsequent pages of the scriptures are replete with the most glowing poetry, of a description not less beautiful, though very different in its style, from the majestic simplicity of Moses. The Song of Solomon is far more varied in its luxuriance, more fanciful in its elegancies, and more rich in its union of passion and of imagery than the most brilliant of the Oriental fictions. It overpowers with a profusion of sweets, and is filled with a thousand delicate touches of natural loveliness, which awaken every pulse to sensations exquisitely tender. But it is in the prophecies that the full blaze of divine inspiration bursts into view in its noon-tide magnificence and strength. It lights up a thousand varied scenes which were covered with the darkness of futurity

pictures forth, with the vividness of truth, regions of immortality and life yet uncreated-and enables us to luxuriate in unbounded landscapes, enchanted with no common magic, but covered with the beams of celestial glory. We hear in them the sweet anthem sung at the manger at Bethlem, by long distance rendered more melodious. In a moment we pass into the future, trample on the sepulchre of time, and hear in the solemn echoes from beyond the grave, the first harmonious notes of worlds in the day-spring of renovated beauty.

It does not appear to be, by any means, agreed, in what age metre began to be used in composition, or what were the imme, diate causes which produced the first modulations of language. Were we to hazard a conjecture on a subject so obscure, we should think that metre was the result rather of the necessities of mankind which grew up with their new-born desire of fame, than of any disposition in the ear to enjoy the luxuries of harmony. It is well known that previous to the invention of letters, hieroglyphics or the engraven representations of natural objects were used to retain the memory of events, which were thought worthy of remembrance. Perhaps, from this very circumstance, allegorical writing, so common in the earliest ages of science, and the introduction of metaphors into language, from whence a large portion of its variety and beauty is derived, may deduce their origin. At length, when a great event was to be handed down to distant ages by tradition-to be stamped in living characters upon the heart-it was thought expedient to emblazon it in lofty language to decorate it with the ornainents of metaphor and simple rhetoric-and possibly to employ in its description the very images which were engraven on marble as a collateral means of preserving it from oblivion. To render such a narration at once remote from the tenor of ordinary conversation and easy to be retained in the memory, the first idea of verse would naturally be suggested, which would be adapted to the notes of wild and simple musicians. This, however, is of small comparative import ance. The elements of poetry existed in, the native qualities of the heart-the exquisite variety of its rhythm was concealed amidst the harmony of the primal affections—and it was but for the breath of heaven to sweep over a thousand silent instruments which nature had thus tuned, to make them tremble into the sweetest melodies of thanksgiving, and the holy vehemence of prophetic rapture.

It is probable, however, that the first objects of poetry were exceedingly simple. The shepherd, whose heart imbibed a share of the purity of his flock, and whose time was chiefly spent in contemplation, beneath the vast cavity of heaven, could not fail to

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