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The World before the Flood; a Poem, in Ten Cantos. By JAMES MONT GOMERY, Author of the Wanderer of Switzerland; the West Indies, &c. London: Longman, &c. 1 Third Edition. 1814.

WITH respect to the former produce tions of Mr. Montgomery, the pub lic mind appears to have been much divided; and if he has experienced the severity, he has also enjoyed the favours of criticism. By one set of judges, he has been stigmatized as a shallow sentimentalist; by another, invested with some of the highest honours of genius. That in this discrepency of opinion, the judg ment of each party has been fairly exercised, does not appear probable in the censure, there was, doubtless, much temerity of decision, and much indecent eagerness of ridicule; in the praise, a mixture of that generous heat, which, in seeking to compensate injustice, falls into the opposite extreme of excessive indul gence. Yet, we think that the explanation of this difference of sentiment is also partly to be found in the real character of the compositions to which it relates. In truth, they appear to us to display a character so mixed and qualified; so unusual a combination of merit and demerit; as to require some delicacy of discrimination in those who would judge them fairly, and more than sufficiently to account for any contrariety of opinion, to which they may give rise, between the hostile and the partial critic.

The present publication comprises several minor pieces, of which we do not think highly enough to make any demand in their favour upon the attention of our readers. The Review will be confined to that which stands first in the title-page, and which, both in point of length and of importance, is the principal poem in the book.

The first topic of consideration, suggested by the "World before the Flood," is the choice of the era. CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 154.

This choice is certainly so far happy, that it adds to the difficulty of criticism, and, even in the worst result, will afford a salvo for the poetical reputation of the author; for, in an undertaking so bold as that of an antediluvian epic, though success is an unequivocal test of merit, there are many considerations which extenuate the disgrace of failure. "To exhaust worlds, and then to imagine new," is the achievement only of some rare genius of the most exalted rank: but even to explore a new creation, is a task less daring than that of inventing fictions appropriate to the primeval state of the world which we inhabit. It is on a subject like this, at once obscure and familiar, of which, while we know but lule, we know enough to limit the extravagance of fancy, that the inventive powers of the poet are called into the severest exercise. Where the scene is purely imaginary, be has at least the unbounded choice of his materials; but the quantity of established fact that is wholly inadequate to supply his wants, may, at the same time, considerably abridge his resources.

Nor is this the only disadvantage attending the subject of the present work. It is peculiarly exposed to an objection, common to all poems of which the narrative is founded on Scripture, or alludes to scriptural personages; an objection so satisfactorily stated by the great critic of English poetry, that it would be injustice to the reader not to quote it in his own words : — ↑

"It is not only when the events are confessedly miraculous, that fancy and fiction lose their effect: the whole system of life, while the Theocracy was yet visible, has an appearance so different from all other scenes of human action, that the reader of the Sacred Volume habitually considers it as a peculiar mode of existence, of a distinct species of mankind, who lived and acted with manners uncommunicable: so that it is difficult even for imagina4 R

tion to place us in the state of them whose story is related; and, by consequence, their joys and griefs are not easily adopted, nor can the attention be often interested in any thing that befals them," Johnson's Life of Cowley.

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to provoke disgust; and the dulness which in itself might pass with impunity, serves, by the contrast with its lofty associations, to render the connection even ludicrous.—We do not hesitate to pronounce the work under review to be defective in interest, and weak in its general impression; but, for; the reasons premised, we do not think that from this fact is by any means to be deduced a conclusion fatal to its poetical merits. If the disadvantages incident to its subject be considered, it will be allowed, that, in order to appreciate properly the talent expended upon it, we must proceed to consider with what degree of dexterity the author has combated his formidable difficulties; and how far the plan and execution of the poem are entitled to praise, after due allowance is made for the imperfections incident to its antediluvian era. The course of the fiction is as follows.

The truth of this observation will not only be felt by every reader, who will retrace the impression made by poems of this description upon his mind, and who will take the trouble to investigate the sources of that impression; but it is further confirm ed by the universal fate of these productions, of which there is hardly one that has risen to a higher distinction than that, of cold approbation, and but few that have escaped from absolute neglect. Even of that immortal work which stands the first in this class of compositions, and the effect of which is so unrivalled in detached passages; it has been said, upon the same authority (and the remark will be confirmed, we believe, by the coincident acknowledgment of every man not afraid to make the avowal), that Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires, and lays down, and forgets to take up again." Indeed, if there be any truth in the observation, that the subjects of Sacred History are inapt to the purposes of poetry, it is peculiarly true as applicable to those parts of the scriptural narrative in which the antiquity is more remote, and the -course of events more peculiar. If it is difficult for the inagination to place us" in the state of the heroes of the Davideis, it is still more so to conceive ourselves in Paradise, or in the World before the Flood. If David fails to interest us as the hero of an epic poem, it cannot be expected that we should be much more alive to the Enoch of Mr. Montgomery.

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In such cases, indeed, it is well if the absence of interest is the only fault perceptible. In subjects of so high and venerable a character, that which does not excite respect is apt

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In the land of Eden, on the eastern side of the Euphrates, dwelt the descendants of the younger children of Adam, who, after having been long distinguished from the rest of the world as a righteous nation, have at length declined into idolatry. From this general depravity, however, is excepted one small glen, the abode of Enoch and the patriarchs, and the only remaining spot in which God still" deigns to walk with man.'

The rest of the world, having been long " filled with vio lence and wrong, had at length been subjugated by a giant warrior, excelling all his brethren in knowledge and power. This warrior, at the opening of the action of the poem, has, with a mighty army, invaded and conquered nearly the whole of the land of Eden; and the small surviving remnant of its inhabitants, driven to despair, have Bencamped on the banks of the Euphrates, resolute to defend themselves to the last extremity.

The poem opens with the secret flight of youth” from the

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tents of Cain," to an airy height which overlooks the invaded land. His name is Javan; formerly one of the children of Eden, and the son of a widowed mother: he had owed the preservation and support of his infancy to the charitable care of Enoch. Early distinguished by his unrivalled skill in song, he soon exhibited all the properties belong ing, of right, to a youthful poeta "quick" and "changeable eye; a countenance the mirror of his breast" a love of " reclining in lonely indolence, to watch the clouds and listen to the wind." This youth, who seems to have been a very exact prototype of the minstrels of later days, had, during the life of his mother," found his home precious for her sake; but after her death, the counsels of Enoch being no longer able to restrain him, he had been urged by ambition, and a thirst for freedom, to forsake the ways of God, and sojourn in the land of Cain. Here he had cultivated his musical talent under Jubal, and had acquired such skill in the science as to become the favourite musician of the giant-king.

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Yet no delight the minstrel's bosom knew; None, save the tones that from his harp he wait drew;]****

And the warm visions of a wayward mind, Whose transient splendour left a gloom behind,

Frail as the clouds of sunset, and as fair,
Pageants of light resolving into air,"

Still was the secret of his griefs unknown;
Amidst the universe he sighed alone.
The fame be follow'd, and the fame he found,
Heal'd not his heart's immedicable wound;
Admir'd, applauded, crown'd where'er he
36 +30 tov❜d, A
The bard was homeless, friendless, unbelov'd.
All else that breath'd below the circling
31 V sky,

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name

Repell'd the touch of every meaner flanie.” Our readers will be at no loss to find a name for this sympathy, and will perhaps be as unable as outselves to discover why the author has chosen to call it nameless. of

Under the influence of these feelings, the minstrel had quitted the camp of the invaders, but, as it would appear, without any distinct plan of subsequent proceeding. Having as cended the airy summit to which he had directed his flight, he is for some time suspended in the choice of his future conduct.

"Oh what a throng of rushing thoughts op In that vast solitude, his anxious breast! press'd,

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To wither in the blossom of renown, And unrecorded to the dust go down. Or for a name on earth to quit the prize Of immortality beyond the skies, Perplex'd his wavering choice --when con

science fail'd,

Love rose against the world, and love prePassion, in aid of virtue, conquered pride, vail'd ;

And woman won the heart to Heav'n denied,” pp. 28, 29.

His resolution taken, he descends towards the Patriarch's Glen, and discovers Zillah sleeping in the very spot in which he had last parted from her, many years before. He awakens her by a masterly serenade on the flute, an instrument of which (by a poetical licence hardly required by the occasion) he The lovers meet, but mutual fear is stated to have been the inventor and distrust prevent any recognition of their former acquaintance; and Javan contents himself with receiving from his mistress a direction to Enoch's house,

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By Enoch, he is rapturously res ceived, and his wanderings are freely forgiven. A long conference ensues between them, in which Ja

vans informs the Patriarch of the design of the Giant King to exterminate the inhabitants of the glen; and in the course of the conversation receives from him a long account of the death of Adam, and his appointment of an annual sacrifice on the day of his fall. There is something alarming in the couplet by which this narrative is prefaced: "Thus through the valley, while they held

their walk,

Enoch of former days began to talk." p. 73.

His talk, however, is by no means
so prosing as
this introduction
would seem to promise. The de-
scription of the dying agonies of
our First Parent, though detailed
with a prolixity that weakens its
general effect, and disfigured by the
interspersion of some slovenly lines,
is on the whole executed with con-
siderable spirit. We will make one

extract from it:

"The sun went down, amidst an angry glare Of Alushing clouds that crimson'd all the air; The winds brake loose; the forest boughs

were torn,

And dark aloof the ĕddying foliage borne.;
Cattle to shelter scudded in affright;
The florid evening vanish'd into night;
Then burst the hurricane upon the vale,
In peals of thunder, and thick-vollied hail;
Prone rushing rains with torrents whelm'd
the land;

Our cot amidst a river seem'd to stand;
Around its base, the foamy-crested streams
Flash'd thro' the darkness to the lightning's
gleamis;

With monstrous throes an earthquake heav'd

the ground,

The rocks were rent, the mountains trem

bled round.

Never since Nature into being came,
Had such mysterious motion shook her frame.
We thought, ingulpht in floods, or wrapt in

fire,
The world itself would perish with our
sire."
pp. 85, 86.

This passage exhibits, as we think, fair specimen of the standard or current style of Mr. Montgomery's successful poetry: it is in the tone most familiar to his lyre, when he is in the good graces of his muse, Yet if the merits of these lines be

rigidly examined, perhaps they can. not be said to possess any very distinguished excellence. They are stately, indeed, and sonorous, but the images they contain are of a rather trite and obvious cast. The. flight of the cattle, the torrents of rain, the lightning and the earthquake are the notorious commonplaces of a storm-scene, and at once occur to every one acquainted with Virgil. It certainly does not in dicate any peculiar fertility of ima gination thus to recur to topics which have so long ago been touched with a force and beauty that ren der all emulation hopeless.

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In the next canto we are introduced to a very grave and solemn at least, if not a very poetical, group of personages-to wit, Seth, Enos, Canaan, Mahaliel, Jared, Methuse lah, and Lamech. These Patri archs join with Enoch in offering a sacrifice commemorative of Adam's fall. The sacrifice is accepted, and Enoch breaks forth into a trium phant prophecy of the coming of the Messiah. The author has here availed himself of the glowing imagery so richly supplied by Isaiah and the Apocalypse, and the passage unquestionably abounds with beauties; and although they are beauties with which read. every er of the Scriptures is already well acquainted, and which have always perhaps suffered by removal from their proper soil, even when trans planted by the most skilful hand, yet it is impossible to read them in Mr. Montgomery's page without renewed delight. After reposing from the toils of this day, Javan goes forth the next morning to look for his harp, which he bad left behind him in the woodland bower of Zillah. He there finds it, and while employed in the operation of drying it, it occurs to him that it is time to

Ipse pater media nimborum in nocte, co-
ruscâ

Fulmina molitur deatrà ; quo maxima motu
Terra fremit:-fugere ferm, &c. &c.

VIRG. GEORG. Lib. L. 328.

seek another interview with that" Thus Song, the breath of Heaven, had forsaken maiden.

"There as with leaves he dried the sculp,

tured shell,

He thought of Zillah, and resolved too late To plead his constancy, and know his fate." p. 120.

Though we are told that this resolution was too late, it turns out that, he is in very good time to meet her, and to make a full and formal declaration of his passion. This declaration is couched in rather more ardent terms than the previous deliberation and method of his procedings had led us to expect: and indeed the invocation with which it begins is more remark, able for warmth than for ortho doxy.

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Stay, hear me, Zillah!—every power above Heaven, Earth, Thyself, bear witness to my love!" .p. 122.

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⚫ He proceeds to assign rather a singular reason for his attachment.

I loved thee thro' the world in dumb de spair,

Loved thee, that I might love no other fair,

p. 122.

That is, as we understand him, he loved her because he felt that it was the only way to prevent his falling in love with some other woman. Considering the vehemence of bis confession, and the extraordinary motive alleged for his regard, we are not surprised to find, that the lady listens to him with obvious alarm, expresses doubts of the reality of his passion, and refuses to ace cept him as a lover.

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Javan's equanimity does not, however, long desert him. We find him on the evening of the day of his rejection' playing and singing to an admiring circle of auditors. In this song he relates the recovery of Cain from despair and madness by the influence of Jubal's music. This short episode is managed with spi fit and elegance. In the conclud ing lines, a compliment to music and poetry of very ancient date is turned with considerable neamtess.'

power to bind

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In chains of harmony the mightiest mind:
Thus Music's empire in the soul began:
The first-born poet ruled the first-born man.
p. 135.

The next incident that occurs, is an incursion made on the Patriarchal Clan, by a detachment from the hosts of Cain, who lead away the whole tribe captive, to the hos-, tile camp. This, though one of the principal occurrences in the poem, is dispatched in a single page, and is immediately succeeded, by a long dialogue of twelve pages held between Enoch and Javan in the course of the march. On this occasion, the latter relates the history of the giant king who was then We cannot very warring in Eden.

much admire the fictions relative to this personage. If they astonish or elevate, it is by the easy process of unrestrained exaggeration. They are bold and large in their dimensions, but somewhat deficient, we

think, in contrivance and ingenuity

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of construction. The formidable warrior who leads the invading army was, it seems, of unknown birth; and tradition traced him no farther than his infancy. Committed to the seas in a fragile bark, he was abode of a goatherd, and by him carried by the tide to the dreary was nursed and educated. This goatherd was bimself distinguished by rather uncommon accomplish

ments:

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