just then, we cannot be at all surprised to find him considerably marked by this defect. If we investigate the nature of Herbert's conceits, (I use the name by which these faults are commonly known,) we shall find them to be of precisely the same character with those which afterwards formed the chief feature in the writings of what Dr. Johnson has called "the metaphysical school:"* nor can we wonder at it, when we recollect that Dr. Donne, one of those who founded that order of poets, was also one of Herbert's most intimate friends: besides that, when Public Orator of Cambridge, Herbert had been habituated to use such a Latin style as should please King James, whose love for pedantic allusions first gave rise to this species of fictitious elegance. The only difference which we can trace between the conceits of Herbert and those of Donne or Cowley, is, that the former are more glaring, because they are less consistent with religious subjects, while the latter, being generally met with in humorous or satirical pieces, rather weary than offend us. Indeed the passion then prevalent, for forcing into service everything that could possibly be twisted into a parallel, cannot fail to suggest itself to every one as a very sufficient reason for what is so often called Herbert's peculiarity in this respect, since it would then be no peculiarity at all. Besides, when we compare him with other writers of similar taste, we find him by no means the worst of his order. So Gascoigne, in drawing a comparison between his bed and the grave, actually presses the very fleas into his verse, to be the representatives of the worms! And to come down to writers of a somewhat later time, every one knows that the pages of the eloquent South are often deformed by images far worse than any which the hymns of Herbert could supply; and that some of his sublimest paragraphs are rounded off by expressions which drive away all the feelings of devotion that his previous language might arouse, by

• See Johnson's Life of Cowley.

associations almost too ludicrous for belief. Perhaps in some of Herbert's pieces, the conceits may be so numerous, that if we were to remove them, we should find very little of any value left behind; but in others, they can scarcely be detected at all. Except the second line, there is hardly a word in the following hymn that the veriest Aristarchus would alter or expunge :

THE CALL.

"Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
Such a Way, as gives us breath;
Such a Truth, as ends all strife;
Such a Life, as killeth death.

"Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
Such a Light, as shows a feast;
Such a Feast, as mends in length;
Such a Strength, as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
Such a Joy, as none can move;
Such a Love, as none can part;
Such a Heart, as joys in love." ↑

Again, many beautiful verses may be selected from poems which, in their other parts, are certainly of very inferior value and while we are so willing to receive some of the third-rate dramatists, merely because a fine thought or a noble speech is here and there, discoverable, it is pure affectation to reject Herbert because beauties are not to be found in each individual line. Here are a few separate verses, chosen at random :

"Lord, I confess my sin is great; Great is my sin. Oh! gently treat With thy quick flower, thy momentary bloom; Whose life still pressing

Is one undressing,

A steady aiming at a tomb."

"Man is the world's high priest: he doth present The sacrifice for all; while they below Unto the service mutter an assent, Such as springs use that fall, and winds that blow.

"He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain, Doth not refrain unto himself alone,

But robs a thousand, who would praise thee fain;

And doth commit a world of sin in one. "Thou art in small things great, not small in any: Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall. Thou art in ail things one, in each thing many; For thou art infinite in one and all." §

+Herbert's Poems, p. 165.

Ibid., from "Repentance," p. 43. § Ibid., from "Providence," p. 120-1.

"And art thou grieved, sweet and sacred dove,
When I am sour,
And cross thy love?
Grieved for me? The God of strength and
power

Grieved for a worm, which when I tread,
I pass away and leave it dead?

"Then weep, mine eyes, the God of love doth grieve:

Weep, foolish heart,
And weeping live;

For death is dry as dust. Yet if ye part,

End as the night, whose sable hue
Your sins express; melt into dew."*

I think I have now quoted quite enough to prove, that if Herbert is to be refused the name of poet, many flourishing branches should be pruned away from the mighty tree of English poetry. It is fortunate, however, that some names of importance can still be found ranked on Herbert's side. Not to mention Lord Bacon, Donne, or any other of the illustrious men who were contemporary with him, yet the following observations by Coleridge will show that even yet some poets are ready to acknowledge a kindred genius in Herbert. is an additional reason for the insertion of Coleridge's remarks, that he gives a most admirable sketch of the character of Herbert's poetry, while he is describing the spirit in which his poetry is to be received.

It

"G. Herbert is a true poet, but a poet sui generis, the merits of whose poems will never be felt without a sympathy with the mind and character of the man. To appreciate this volume, it is not enough that the reader possesses a cultivated judgment, classical taste, or even poetic sensibility, unless he be likewise a Christian, and both a zealous and an orthodox, both a devout and a devotional, Christian. But even this will not quite suffice. He must be an affectionate and dutiful child of the Church, and from habit, conviction, and a constitutional predisposition to moniousness, in piety as in manners, find her forms and ordinances aids of religion, not sources of formality;

cere

• Herbert's Poems, from the Hymn on Ephes. iv. 30, p. 141.

for religion is the element in which he lives, and the region in which he moves." +

It would seem to be taking rather an unnecessary trouble, if any one should come forward and tell us that there are varieties in religious poetry yet it is strange that this very evident principle is so often forgotten. Minds of various castes draw their inspiration also from various themes, or treat the same theme in different ways. While one is content to find poetry in the chime of a distant village-bell, another seeks it in the solemn voice of the stormy sea, or the awful reverberations of the thunder among the lonely hills: yet the humble beauty of the one mind loses not its title to be esteemed poetical, because it has little in common with the haughty grandeur of the other. And thus, to apply this observation to the case before us, it is wrong to say, that Herbert lacks poetry, because in his calm and quiet communings with heaven we find none of that terrible and unearthly imagery which throngs Milton's hymn on the nativity,-none of the stately solemnity of his Paradise Lost. It is in the hour of despondency and woe that we seek to mingle such poetry as Herbert's with our prayers, at times when the superhuman sublimity of Milton would harmonize ill with the crushed and fainting spirit that dare hardly utter those mighty strains. Such, as I have already shown, was the temper in which these Poems were mostly written :-such also should be the temper in which they are received. J. H., jun.

London, Jan. 10th, 1839.

+ Pickering's edition of Herbert's Poems, p. 337.

NOTE. A few mistakes occurred last month in my first Paper, which it may be proper to correct here.

P. 121, col. I, line 12. Instead of a full stop, there should only be a comma.

P. 122, col. 1, n. For "father," read "fathers." It happens that Surrey's father had not used those arms, though his ancestors had.

P. 122, col. 2. In Surrey's Sonnet on Wyatt's Psalms, after the 7th line, insert, "The steadfast hope, the sweet return to grace."

P. 123, col. 1. In the 3d line of the quotation, for "my," read "by."

P. 125, col. 1, n. 2, line 6. For "is," read" in."

MY DEAR FRIEND,

ORIGINAL

LETTER.

Ir has been very reluctantly that I have deferred writing to you one day since I heard from— Amidst

the company and the business which have very unusually pressed upon my time and attention, I have continually thought of, and felt for, you. Little, indeed, should we be conformed to the image of Christ, if destitute of sympathy with suffering friends. When Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews also weeping who came with her, he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled; and when he went toward the grave of Lazarus, he also wept. Yet he foreknew the death of his friend; he could have prevented it, and did not. He was now about to restore him to life; yet Jesus wept! Why? Because he "loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus." He was man, and what man ought to be, a social, sympathizing being. He loved all mankind. O, with what manner of love! What man loves his dearest friends beyond lay ing down his life for them? But while we were yet sinners, rebels, and traitors, Christ died for us as ungodly creatures. But this God commendeth to us as "His love." Christ loved as man; he was formed for friendship; he sanctified and exalted it by his own pattern. And he was formed for sympathy; of Him best we may learn to 66 weep with them that weep," as well as to rejoice with them that rejoice." Indeed better; for, although our Lord, in his familiar intercourse with his disciples, appears to have spoken cheerfully, though he readily shared the hospitality even of worldly men; yet, from the nature of his undertaking on earth, it is chiefly as "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," that we have to contemplate his character; it is

chiefly in suffering that he has " left the example by which we may follow his steps." But the tears of Jesus were not unmeaning effusions of oppressed sensibility. He was contemplating death, and knew it to be the wages of sin; the sin of our first parents entailed death alike without exception on all their posterity. By the course of nature, "there is one event to the righteous and the wicked, the clean and the unclean." Christ, as the son of man, born of woman, descended from Adam, was to share the sentence pronounced on him, and on his posterity as such; neither did he by this sacrifice exempt his people from sharing in the same sentence. In Adam all must die, as in Christ all are made alive; but where is the sting of death to them who trust in him? Where is the victory of the grave to them who believe him to be the "resurrection and the life?" "He that believeth in me, though he die shall live, and no person living who believes in me shall ever die." Doubtless, had La zarus not been raised till the last trumpet sounded, he would have been no less alive to God. If he had not returned to open his eyes on his friend and Redeemer in this life, he would only have departed to be with Christ in a much better life. Some, therefore, have imagined that our Lord wept at the thought of bringing back his friend from such a state, again to endure death and its concomitant evils in this life. I cannot think so; I believe that all events are disposed by God, for the good of them who love him; and that he would not have recalled Lazarus from the grave, merely for the good of others, had he not known that it would issue in his own good also. I doubt not, therefore, that the addition to Lazarus's time of proba

tion on earth was productive of a higher degree of everlasting happiness, than he could have enjoyed by an earlier entrance upon it. But shall we wish our departed friends back on this presumption? Far be it from us! No, let us rejoice that they are safely landed, where they will enjoy the utmost degree of hap. piness that they were prepared to participate. We know not, as our Lord did, what would be the result of their return to us. Said I, "as he did know?" I would alter it, "as he does know :" He, and he only, knows where and how it is best for them who love him, that they should be where he is, that they may behold his glory." We may, and should, and must, trust the moment and the manner of our departure to his appointment; and we ought to do the same for that of every friend we have on earth, however indispensa

66

ble to us their continuance may
seem: this may be more difficult in
the prospect, than the retrospect;
but the duty is the same in both
views, and the privilege the greater
where most difficult.
Give my
love to brother B. May our
compassionate Lord support you
both under your respective trials,
and mutual cares! So far as he
permits you to be afflicted, may you
find it good to be so! I am in-
clined to ascribe all trials to inimical
agency; but I am sure that if so, it
is under the control of infinite
wisdom and love. A legion of de-
mons could not touch one among a
herd of swine, till they had obtained
leave to do so; and "the very hairs
of our head are all numbered.' Το
God, who is love, I commit you
and yours, as

Your affectionate brother in Him,
S. G.

To proceed with Felix Neff:-To form any thing like a correct estimate of the gigantic labours of this extraordinary man, it is necessary to mark the extent of his Alpine parish

or Circuit :

“The valley of Queyras, (which communicates directly with the Protestant valleys of Piedmont by the pass of the Col de la Croix,) extending from the foot of Mont Viso to Mont Dauphin, along the whole course of the river Guil, and comprising the glens, which follow the direction of the mountain-torrents which roll into the Guil, forms the eastern quarter of the section of Arvieux. The Protestant families dwell principally in the commune of Arvieux, and its hamlets La Chalp and Brunichard, and in the commune of Molines, and its

hamlets San Veran, Pierre Grosse, and Fongillarde. They have a church at Arvieux, one at San Veran, and another at Fongillarde. The distance between the churches of Arvieux and San Veran

is not less than twelve miles. The western quarter of the section consists of the valley of Fressinière, and its hamlets Chancelas, Palons, Violins, Minsas, and Dormilleuse, which occupy the banks of a torrent that pours its waters into the Durance, half way between Briançon and Embrun: and of the commune of Champsaur, separated from the valley of Fressinière by a mountain and glacier. In the valley of Fressinière, there are two Protestant churches, those of Violins and Dormilleuse; and in the commune of Champsaur, there is a church at St. Laurent. Sixty miles nearly of rugged road must be trodden, before the Pastor,

whose residence is at La Chalp, beyond Arvieux, can perform his duties at Champsaur. But besides these two principal groups of Protestant villages, there are two outlying branches of the section, that of Vars, which is eight miles south of Guillestre, or twenty from Arvieux, and that of La Grave, which is beyond Briançon, and twenty-one miles north of Guillestre, or thirty-three miles from the Minister's presbytery. Suppose, then, that the Pastor has fixed his abode at the house which is provided for him at La Chalp, in the commune of Arvieux, he has a journey of twelve miles before he can reach the scene of his labours in an eastern direction, and sixty before he can arrive at it in the opposite quarter. He has also a distance of twenty miles towards the south, and thirty-three towards the north, when his services are required by the little flocks at Vars and La Grave." (Pages 113, 114.)

A few extracts affording more minute descriptions of the localities where Neff had to perform his ministerial and pastoral duties, can scarcely fail to prove interesting to the reader. The first refers to the Pass of the Guil.

"Neff's Journal has noted the 16th of January, 1824, as the day on which he arrived at Arvieux, to take possession of the habitation provided for the Pastor of the district. I have stated in more places than one, that a taste for magnificent scenery formed a strong feature in his character, and it never could have been more gratified than on his journey from Gap, through Guillestre, to his new abode. The road from the latter is by the pass of the Guil; and in the whole range of Alpine scenery, rich as it is in

the wonders of nature, there is nothing more terribly sublime than this mountain path. A traveller would be amply repaid in visiting this region, for the sole purpose of exploring a defile, which in fact is one of the keys to France, on the Italian frontier, and is therefore guarded at one end by the strong works of Mont Dauphin, and at the other by the fortress of Château Queyras, whose guns sweep the entrance of the pass. For several miles the waters of the Guil occupy the whole breadth of the defile, which is more like a chasm or vast rent in the mountain, than a ravine: and the path, which in places will not admit more than two to walk side by side, is hewn out of the rocks. These rise to such a giddy height, that the soaring pinnacles which crown them look like the fine points of masonry work on the summit of a cathedral

meantime the projecting masses, that overhang the wayfaring man's head, are more stupendous and more menacing than the imagination can conceive. Many of these seem suspended as by magic art, and ready to fall at the least con

Perhaps they have been so suspended for centuries, and will so continue for centuries to come; but, be that as it may, enormous fragments are frequently rolling down, and as the wind roars through the gloomy defile, and threatens to sweep you into the torrent below, you wonder what it is which holds together the terrifying suspensions, and prevents your being crushed by their fall. Much has been related of the peril of traversing a pass on the summit of a mountain, with a precipice yawning beneath your feet; but in fact, there is no danger equal to a journey through a defile like this, when you are at the bottom of the Alpine gulf, with hundreds of feet of crumbling rock above your head. But, terribly magnificent as this pass is, and though it must at other times have made a powerful impression on Neff's mind, his Journal does not contain a word either of its grandeur or its terrors. He forced his way through it in the middle of January, when it is notoriously unsafe to attempt the passage. Several travellers lose their lives here almost every year; but our Pastor's anxiety to be at his post of duty was the strongest feeling that moved him, and he thought of nothing but the field of usefulness which was now before him." (Pages 116-118.)