To grace this transient foretaste of his reign V. The mountain brow is light as day; Upon the gilded foliage round the radiance melts away. Fixed in surprise, Gaze on the three of glorious mien. Devoid of all pain here;' Said Peter, in haste, at the scene. When lo! an overshadowing cloud, In him do I always delight; His prayers, in rich blessings requite; VI. Awed by the glorious sight, the fearful sound, VII. The day, as other days, has fired the world below, (1) Comp. Mat. 16: 13.-17: 1.-17:22. (2) Luke 9:37. (3) Ps. 121: 4. (4) Ps. 33: 14. (5) Comp. Ps. 133: 3. Ps. 89: 12. (6) Mark 14: 37, 38. (7) Comp. Mat. 16: 21.-17: 1. Luke 9: 31. Mark 14: 33-36. (8) Rev. 1: 14. (9) Mal. 4: 5. Luke 1: 17. (10) John 8: 23.-19: 11. (11) John 12: 28. (12) 2 Pet. 1: 15-18. Keview of New Publications. Airs of Palestine; a Poem: By Some of our readers may perhaps expect an apology for our turning their attention so frequently to poetry. It may seem to them like departing from the proper business of Christian Spectators to be admiring the beauties or condemning the faults of a species of composition, whose usual aim is to please and amuse, and which has too often been engaged in the service of superstition, and vice, and infidelity. If poetry had the power merely to describe virtue and vice, religion and infidelity, as objects of taste, which like many other things are agreeable or disagreeable to the fancy, we might properly leave her to her pleasure; but poetry does more than describe-she effectually recommends to our affections, the objects she chooses to adorn, and conveys to the very heart,-especially of the young and the enthusiastic,-the principles which she infuses into her song. The skilfu!, powerful, poet, so embodies his own sentiments in his pleasing imagery, and so commends them, thus exhibited, to our hearts, by the delightful emotions which he makes them excite within us; that it requires no common effort of virtuous principle to admire the beautiful and sublime which he sets before us, while, at the same time, we distinguish and reject the corrupt or erroneous sentiments which are artfully associated with them. Much of the fashionable poetry of the present age evinces that vice and depravity may be so associated with objects or qualities really admirable, as to receive a cast and colouring of beauty or grandeur, from these associations. Passions the most corrupt and diabolical, are so exhibited as to astonish by their powerful energy; and characters the most depraved, challenge our admiration, on account of their surprising courage and decision, or solicit our love by the ease and grace, and sprightliness, which mingle with their licentiousness and profligacy. The very power by which the author himself is enabled to work such wonders, demands a portion of our admiration, which itself increases the pernicious effect of his skilful combinations. For these reasons, if for no other, no literary productions require to be watched, by the moralist, with more vigilance than those of the poet. But poetry has other claims on the attention of the christian critic. If she has power to do much mischief by clothing vice and irreligion in beauty, she has, at least, equal power to do good, by adorning and exalting what is truly good and great-by recommending the best sentiments, and exciting the most heavenly affections. She seems indeed naturally allied to religion and virtue, and never has exerted powers so great, or appeared in a form so captivating, as when describing the noblest objects, or expressing and infusing into the soul of her admirers, the purest, holiest feelings of which the human heart is capable. Even inspiration has deigned to use the powers of the poet, in communicating lessons of heavenly wisdom, and especially in awakening in the hearts of the pious, those holy affections which spring from the grace of God: and the poetic parts of the Bible, have probably had as great influence as any other, in "perfecting holiness” in the hearts of God's children. Our own literature also has been enriched by the labours of poets, who were inspired with the same spirit which animated "the sweet psalmist of Israel." Milton, Watts, Young, and Cowper, have not only delighted the christian world, but have conferred obligations upon it, not less, perhaps, than have been imposed by the la bours of any writer of prose in the English language; and we doubt not that multitudes will bless God through eternity, for impressions first received from their poetry, as well as for the comfort and strength it yielded them in the land of their pilgrimage. Such English poets have been"Orise some other such." What christian can remark, without pain, the contrast between these lights of the world,' and the most fashionable poets of our own time. Byron, the most popular poetic genius, now on the stage, insults a christian public, by his open impiety, his scepticism, his all-pervading infidelity,-not to mention the fault of selecting irreligious and villainous characters as the only objects to be adorned and commended to our admiration by the powers of his fancy. Moore, has contrived to clothe the most licentious sentiments in decent language, while he awakens and cherishes feelings, which nothing but the sweetest melody of verse could save from merited indignation and abhorrence. Scott, stands neutral. His principles, or his taste, or his desire of popularity, prevent him from attacking the established principles and habits of his countrymen and of the christian public. And yet so delightful are the emotions awakened by the visions of poetic fancy, and the efforts of a powerful imagination, even on an inferior object, that these authors have been read and admired, by thousands, who confess they derive no benefit from the perusal, and who would rejoice to receive the same kind of amusement from poets inspired with the piety of Milton and Cowper. We do not forget there are some names among our living bards, who seem willing to embody the sentiments of the Gospel, and to infuse its spirit into their writings; but the positive hostility, or at best total indifference of the great majority, looks dark, and is calculated to cast a gloom over a mind at all aware of the powerful and lasting influence of poetry, on the character of society. If it is recorded, as evidence of the deep, political sagacity of an eminent statesman, that he could wish for no greater influence on society, than would be given him, by the entire command of the popular ballads of his country,' what have not we to fear, when the licentiousness and infidelity of the poet are successfully infused into his songs, and, we must add, these songs are admired and applauded by the public. How many trains of serious thought, may have been broken; how many solemn impressions, obliterated, and convictions of conscience, hushed, by the baneful influence of such insidious, but pernicious amusement, is known only to the Searcher of hearts. The amount of the evil cannot be estimated by man. Even the heart which experiences the baleful effect, suspects not perhaps the cause. Amidst such reflections, the christian however finds one consolation, in the certainty, that licentious and irreligious poetry, is never destined to immortality-or if the genius of the poet is able to embalm his follies, and to hand them down to posterity, they will never be extensively admired, when the grace of novelty is gone, and these authors will never be placed in the first ranks of genius. The greatest masters of song, Homer and Virgil, even Shakspeare sometimes, as well as Milton and Cowper, have given us in their verse, the religion of their countrymen. They have pourtrayed the most perfect characters, expressed the noblest sentiments, and breathed the purest affections, of which they were capable of forming conceptions, and have thus struck those chords in the human heart, which never fail to vibrate to the language of devotion,and those who stand second in the ranks of poetic genius, have acquired celebrity by exposing to merited contempt and indignation, the opposite vices. Man must be addressed as a moral being, if we would touch his finest feelings. Virtue and piety must be recommended, to gain the lasting approbation even of the prof ligate. Those who touch the best feelings of our nature, and improve them too, deserve the gratitude of the world, and will be held in everlasting remembrance, while such poets as Byron, and Moore and Scott, will hardly be known when they shall cease to awaken the decaying interest of the public, by new calls on their attention, and new efforts at originality. Already they cease to be much admired, even by that class of superficial, capricious readers, who recently devoured with eagerness, volume after volume, and demanded more to be given, faster than even such poetry can be produced. The desire of novelty now requires new authors as well as new poems, and we may safely predict, that succeeding generations will know little more than their names, while the worthies we before mentioned, whose writings exalt the soul and elevate the character of man will continue to be read, while literary excellence shall have admirers, or the English language a reader. be extended the work, and enlarged I love to breathe, where Gilead sheds her deathless rose; and declares that he prefers the mountains and streams of Palestine to Parnassus, or Olympus, Cephissus or Peneus, or all the charms of Classical Greece, united. We certainly do not condemn his taste; for although Palestine in itself, is, at this time, far from being a charming country, and its hills and vales and streams are not to be compared in beauty and grandeur, with the natu ral scenery of Greece, rich in a fertile soil, and cheered with a delight The title of the little poem, "Airs of Palestine" which has been the occasion of these remarks, is calculated to excite the hope that Mr. Pierpont, has aspired to imitate those mighty dead, and that poetry, in his hands, has once more become the instrument of awaking in the heart, the deepest and most delightful emotions of piety-that the muse has once more prompted the language of devotion, and has become the delightful climate, yet are they clothed with ed ally of religion and virtue. We must not however, rashly conclude, that the strain is holy, because the subject is sacred, for even Byron has composed "Hebrew Melodies," and Moore, "Sacred Songs."-Before however we proceed to examine the more important merits of the work, we will despatch what we have to say of it, as a mere literary production. Mr. Pierpont, it seems, sat down to compose a piece in praise of musick, to be recited at an "evening concert of sacred musick for charitable purposes," but as he proceeded, moral associations, of a far deeper interest. The events of which they stand the witnesses and the monuments, are of a more sublime and affecting nature, and the bards who once strung their harps to celebrate them, were inspired with a loftier genius, and warmed with a holier flame, than were those who have celebrated by their lays, every mountain and river of Greece, and have handed down, the fabled visitations of their deities, in immortal song, to the admiration of all succeeding ages. The flood of mingled emotions, ot tenderness, and reverence, and love, that rushes into the soul, with the single line which closes the description, gives to what would otherwise have been an uninteresting passage, an unspeakable-almost an unequalled effect. Such a description of every memorable event, that has taken place in Palestine, would form a Poem, which would have few equals in the English language. But we anticipate, a future portion of our review.—We shall give a few specimens of our author's manner. He is describing in the following lines, the general effects of musick :— How far Mr. Pierpont has profited, by these advantages of his subject, we shall have occasion to remark, as we proceed. If, however, we may judge from the motto, before quoted, we should apprehend that the poet was not fully aware of the advantages of his subject; since he has not alluded, unless in the word 'holier,' to any of those events which give such peculiar interest to its scenery. Surely, it is not the "balm" of Gilead, nor the 'dews' of Hermon, nor the rose of Sharon,' nor the holy grots,' if there are any, of Carmel, which causes the very names of those hallowed mountains, to awaken such solemn, holy emotions in the heart of every child of God. The poet has not particularized the circumstances, or alluded to the associations, with which the effect is connected. By mentiouing circumstances, which do not peculiarly distinguish these pla- Its silken fibres round the yielding soul; ces, he rather retards, than favours those rapid movements, by which our imaginations hasten to surround these sacred names, with interesting recollections. What we would desire of a poet, who describes these objects, may be illustrated by an example: it is a description of the desart country of Jordan, and of an event supposed to have taken place there,-given indeed by the Prince of Poets, but not in his happiest, or most popular per formance. -Either tropic now, 'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds From many a horrid rift abortive, poured Fierce rain, with lightning mixed; nor slept the winds Within their stony caves, but rushed abroad From the four hinges of the world, and fell On the vex'd wilderness, whose tallest pines Tho' rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks Bowed their stiff necks, loaded with stormy blasts Or torn up sheer-I'll wast thou shrouded then, O patient Son of God! Paradise Regained-Book iv. All was not lost; for Love one tie had twin'd, And Mercy dropp'd it, to connect mankind: One tie, that winds, with soft and sweet control, Binds man to man, sooths Passion's wild est strife, And, through the mazy labyrinths of life, That tie is MUSICK.—PP. 5—6. We cannot indeed see in what sense music is a clue' to lead a soul to the throne of God. We presume the figure was chosen, and probably the thought itself adopted for the preceding figure-One tie." Our sake of it, to correspond with the readers will see, however, that the author is not deficient in fancy. The following is in a higher strain: There lives around that solitary man, The tameless musick, that with time began; Airs of the Power, that bids the tempest |