There, 'tis a string that sooths with slow vibration,

And here, a burst that shakes the whole creation. p. 14.

The evening of the Saviour's agony is thus described :—

'Tis night again: for Musick loves to steal

Abroad at night; when all her subjects kneel,

In more profound devotion, at her throne;
And, at that sober hour, she'll sit alone,
Upon a bank, by her sequestered cell,
And breathe her sorrows through her
wreathed shell.

Again 'tis night-the diamond lights on high,

Burn bright, and dance harmonious thro' the sky;

And Silence leads her downy footed hours Round Sion's hill, and Salem's holy towers.-p. 21.

The author of the following description certainly possesses poetical powers by no means contemptible :

On Caledonia's hills, the ruddy morn Breathes fresh :-the huntsman winds his

clamorous horu.

The youthful minstrel from his pallet

springs,

Seizes his harp, and tunes its slumbering strings.

Lark-like he mounts o'er gray rocks,

thunder-riven,

Lark-like he cleaves the white mist, tem

pest-driven,

And lark-like carols, as the cliff he climbs, Whose oaks were vocal with his earliest

rhymes.

With airy foot he treads that giddy height; His heart all rapture, and his eye all light;

His voice all melody, his yellow hair Floating and dancing on the mountain air, Shaking from its loose folds the liquid pearls,

That gather clustering on his golden

curls;

And his young bosom feels the enchantment strong,

Of light, and joy, and minstrelsy, and song. pp. 32, 33.

We shall only add, his account of David's playing on his harp, in the presence of Saul :—

As the young harper tries each quiver. ing wire,

It leaps and sparkles with prophetick fire, And, with the kindling song, the kindling

rays

Around his fingers tremulously blaze, Till the whole hall, like those blest fields above,

Glows with the light and melody of love.

-p. 17.

Mr. Pierpont's imagination, it will be seen, is lively, and playful, and we may add, it is sometimes wayward also. Even an excess of these qualities ought not perhaps to be severely condemned in a youthful poet, but should be regarded with indulgence, as giving promise of future excellence of a higher order, if they are accompanied with deep, and strong Without strong feeling and good taste, feelings, and a good degree of taste. a lively imagination is continually in danger of following out curious and fanciful resemblances, and of degene rating into quaintness, conceit, and epigrammatic point. A tendency to these faults is observable, we think, in the genius of our author. In one passage, where he describes the effect of musick, in connection with religion, he reminds us of what Dr. Johnson calls the "Metaphysical Poetry" of the age of Cowley.

Her eye looks heaven-ward, for from To her, Religion owes her holiest flame:

heaven she came.

And when Religion's mild and genial ray, Around the frozen heart begins to play, Musick's soft breath falls on the quivering light;

The fire is kindled, and the flame is bright;

And that cold mass, by either power as

Is warm'd-made liquid-and to heaven sail'd, exhal'd.-p. 7.

We may observe, in passing, that Mr. Pierpont has an extravagant idea

of the power of musick on the heart, or uses rather extravagantly the poet's license, in describing it; but we quoted the passage, as illustrating the qualities of our author's imagination, and the want of feeling, if not of taste, which left him at leisure to follow out, or fancy such resemblances, when describing such a subject.

The extravagant alliteration, also, to which he is addicted, we should put in the same class of faults, as flowing evidently from the same mental qualities. We notice the following:

Now, all is still :-the midnight anthem hush'd :

The cross is crumbled, and the crosier

crush'd.--p. 34.

Play'd Mercy's beams-the lambent light of love. p. 5.

Or, deep beneath him, burst with bound

less roar,

Their sparkling surges on that savage shore.--p. 34. Through rifted rocks, and hollow rumbling caves. p. 35.

When a person, to appearance, delivers the very thoughts he wishes to communicate, and in their natural order, and expresses them in appropriate words, we are agreeably surprised, to notice that several of them begin with the same letters, and repeat the same sound to our ear. It seems a curious coincidence, or rather, when we reflect a moment, it indicates a great command of words in the author, and uncommon skill and ingenuity in arranging them so that the recurrence of similar sounds shall seem accidental. If however, the trick is repeated too often, and especially if the author seems to deviate from the natural course of thought, or to use words aside from their proper meaning to produce the effect, we are displeased and form a rather contemptuous opinion of an author, who shews himself so fond of trifles, and who has evidently made such a sacrifice of time, or of sense, or grammatical propriety to attain so We see also, at unworthy an end." once, that while he is thus busied,

there must be a great want of strong, absorbing feeling.

Mr. Pierpont uses this artifice too frequently, and we think also, that he often introduces an additional thought, or deviates from the established usage of language, for the sake of words which alliterate.

The remarks we have made respecting the minor artifices of alliteration, are applicable to the great art of Poetry itself, and especially to the measure, and rhyme of verses. There is a music in poetry, in itself pleasing, and there is also excited by it, in our minds, an admiration of the powers of the poet, who can, with apparent ease, use language in a manner which would be to us so difficult; and we may here remark that there are many words, in the English language, formed analogically with similar terminations, which give a double sound-a kind of gingle, to which it would at first seem not easy to find a rhyme. These double rhymes, therefore when they occur, strike us, at first, with some surprise, and seem to indicate an uncommon power of versification in the writer. When however they are discovered to be as easy as any other, their frequent recurrence tires the ear, and seems to indicate a puerile taste, in the author. They occur we think, too frequently in this poem, so as manifestly to be faulty. We give one example, the second line of which contains also one of those conceits, to which we before alluded.

The reverend hermit, who from earth
retires,

Freezes to love's, to melt in holier fires,
Year after year, with brighter views re-
volving,
Doubt after doubt in stronger hopes dis-

solving

Amid the deep'ning shades of that wild mountain,

He hears the burst of many a mossy fountain,

Whose crystal rills in pure embraces mingle,

And dash, and sparkle down the leafy dingle. pp. 13, 14.

It cannot be denied that such rhymes are pretty, but their tinkling

chime, is more fitted to please the ears of children than to gratify the correct taste of manhood. We are persuaded that posterity will decide "If e'er posterity see verse of his, "Some fity or an hundred lustrums bence,"

that these jingling prettinesses of language, in which Mr. Pierpont has followed to excess, the fashion of the age, are among the greatest faults, in the mere diction of the poem. In general, the mechanical execution of his poetry, is good. It has evidently received no small portion of the author's attention. He has a good and musical ear, and a sufficient command of poetical language, to write very good verses. It will be concluded however, that we do not consider melody and harmony of versification, richness of poetic diction, or even brilliancy and beauty of imagery, as among the most important parts of good poetry. They are in themselves almost unworthy the attention of an immortal being in this transitory, probationary state, unless they are made the means of recommending and enforcing virtuous sentiments, of awakening holy affections, and thus of elevating the character, purifying the heart, and promoting the happiness of man. Whether in the "Airs of Palestine" they have this use and tendency, and to what extent, shall be our next enquiry.

The subject of the Poem, affords opportunities for moral reflections, of the deepest interest; the country where the scene is laid, presents objects to awaken recollections, at which every christian's heart should burn within him, for there the Almighty God descended of old, in manifestation of his power and majesty, his mercy and justice,-and there the Son of God, the Saviour of the world, went about doing good' while he lived, and at last offered his soul a sacrifice for sin, for the redemption of the world.' Every spot, every object there, is consecrated in

our memory, by events which are intimately connected with our sweetest consolations and joys in this life, and with all our hopes of immortal bles sedness. A christian poet, it would seem, could not glance at them, far less survey them, and not be moved to an enthusiasm of devout and holy feeling. We were not a little disappointed, therefore, in pe rusing the "Airs of Palestine," to notice an entire omission of those circumstances, in each object and event, which are associated with our strongest emotions, our most de vout affections. We were pained to observe, that the author, seems so little affected, with the most interesting parts of his subject, and that he presents them to his readers, merely as facts, that had an existence, but not as having any more connection with us, and our eternal intetests, than the fabled events of Grecian Mythology, and as fitted to excite in us no other emotions than those of admiration. We are told of the power, and pomp, and glory of Jehovah, but not one word to impress upon us his holiness,-the glories of his moral character. Not once in the poem, we believe, is there an allusion even, to the relations in which we stand to that Being, either as moral and accountable agents, or as condemned and helpless sinners. So the Saviour is mentioned, and the circumstances attending his birth are alluded to, but we are not once reminded of whom he is the Saviour, nor is it once intimated that we are interested in the least degree, in those wonderful events or in that remarkable character, with which they are connected. No where has the author expressed any personal interest in his subject, nor attempted to describe or express the actings of Faith in Christ, or the feelings of a penitent sinner, returning through him, to a reconciled God, and rejoicing in his salvation. Nay we search in vain, to find in this poem, any expression of that admiration and holy awe which we should suppose would be

excited in every pious heart, by the dictinct contemplation of those facts to which he has particularly alluded.

We confess that we are humbled as well as pained, that Mr. Pierpont, should undertake to set before us, with the strength of poetic description, the scenes in which his Saviour lived, and where he shed his blood, a ransom for the world, and not render any homage of respect to his Divine Master, nor once offer the incense of praise and thanksgiving to him who loved us, and who washed us from our sins in his own blood.'

We certainly have no wish to pass a severe censure on the work of Mr. Pierpont. We have again and again perused this little volume, with a desire of finding something on which we might found the hope, of seeing the efforts of its author, directed to nobler ends, and sanctified by holier feelings than are manifested in this performance, but we are compelled to lay it down disappointed and dejected.

Those of our readers, who are desirous of judging for themselves of the correctness of the preceding remarks will not complain of the tediousness of our extracts while we proceed, in illustration, to quote from the poem, every passage in which the author touches upon religious or sacred subjects.

In tracing the series of events which

have consecrated the land of Palestine, Mr. Pierpont first notices the deliverance of the Israelites, and the destruction of their enemies in the Red Sea

O'er the cleft sea, the storm in fury rides:

Israel is safe, and Egypt tempts the tides : Her bost, descending, meets a wat❜ry grave,

And o'er her monarch rolls the refluent

wave.

The storm is hush'd: the billows foam no more,

But sink in smiles :-There's music on the shore.

On the wide waste of waters, dies that air Unbeard; for all is death and coldness there.

and in this strain is completed ?—or how can it be accounted for, that our could describe the event without one author, even with this song before him, allusion to God, as the author of their deliverance, or the object of their paise?

reference to the power, or interposiThe fault of omitting to make any tion of God, when alluding to a miraculous event, is repeated in the following passage, where that is attributed to a creature's arm, which the scriptures ascribe to the power of God.

Whose veteran arm, already taught to

urge

The battle stream, and roll its darkest surge,

Hangs over Jericho's devoted towers, And, like the storm o'er Sodom, redly lowers?

The moon can answer; for she heard his tongue,

And cold and pale o'er Ajalon she hung. The Sun can tell:-O'er Gibeon's vale of blood,

Curving their beamy necks, his coursers stood,

Held by that hero's arm, to light his wrath,

And roll their glorious eyes upon his crimson path.-p. 12.

No blackening thunder smok'd along the wall:

No earthquake shook it :-Music wrought its fall.-pp. 12, 13.

If the leading object of the poem justifies or palliates the extravagant licence of ascribing to Musick, that which the pious Israelites ascribed to the immediate power of God, nothing, we are sure, can justify, to a correct taste, the ridiculous conceit of supposing that such a miraculous event, was wrought by such musick as that of ram's horns. And here we cannot but notice the difference between" the bards of old," those "bards of brightest fire," and the Muse of Mr. Pierpont. They recognize the immediate power of God, not only in extraordinary, but in the ordinary events of his Providence. The thunder was his voice; lightnings, the glittering of his spear, clouds were his chariothe walked upon the wings of the wind ---earthquakes were occasioned by his tread, or still more poetically by the terrors of his approach, while volcanoes smoked and melted, because the Almighty touched them. This bard of modern times, on the contrary, excludes the presence of God, even in those deviations from the ordinary course of nature, which are clearly miraculous, and therefore proofs of divine interposition, by substituting secondary and often contemptible causes of them. To this general fault, there are two exceptions in the account which next follows, of Elijah's visit to Horeb, and of the previous giving of the law, at the same place. In describing the latter, he even seems, for a moment, to have caught