The English poets having thus generally failed in securing the approbation of those who wanted devotional poems adapted not only to please the ear and kindle the imagination, but to warm the heart, Dr. Johnson, who was fond of paradox, and of showing his skill in argumentation, undertook to demonstrate that success was hopeless! And to this day, his reasoning, which occurs in his life of Waller, has never received, so far as we are aware, an adequate answer. Accordingly, believing, as we do, that it merits examination and is not unrefutable, we purpose, on this occasion, bestowing a few pages on the subject. Considering the influence, at one time almost paramount, and still considerable, possessed by the Doctor, we think that we shall be rendering a service to literature by exposing his fallacies.

He begins by asserting, that "poetical devotion cannot often please." Is not this a tacit acknowledgment, that devotional feeling may be embodied in such poetry as will sometimes please? And if a poet has been successful in one department of devotion; he may in another, or where he has failed, some other poet may produce a composition worthy of admiration. Dr. Johnson, however, doos not deny that poetry descriptive of nature, and laudatory of its author, may be excellent. The works of God, and the motives to piety, are not, he thinks, incompatible with poetical excellence, though God and piety, abstractly considered, are. This he explains more fully, thus: "Contemplative piety, or the intercourse between God and the human soul, cannot be poetical. Man,' admitted to implore the mercy of his Creator, and plead the merits of his Redeemer, is already in a higher state than poetry can confer." This, we suppose, simply implies, that devotional feeling is superior to poetical, a position not likely to be contested by those who have experienced the elevation of soul resulting from pure worship; but does it thence follow, that the substance of this feeling cannot be shadowed? or that the devotee is incapable of expressing, in verse, the thoughts which arose in his mind when prostrated before his Maker? Few, we believe, will maintain this. But if the devotee can become the true poet, the reader of his verses may feel devotion kindled in the perusal, and may make them the medium of his gratitude and love, as the aged stork avails itself of the wings of its offspring to soar to heaven.

"The essense of poetry," says Johnson, "is invention, such invention, as by producing something unexpected, sur prises and delights. The topics of devotion are few, and being few, are universally known; but, few as they are, they can be made no more; they can receive no grace from novelty of sentiment, and very little from novelty of expres sion. Poetry pleases by exhibiting an idea more grateful to the mind than things themselves afford. This effect proceeds from the display of those parts of nature which attract, and the concealment of those which repel the imagination but religion must be shown as it is; suppression and addition equally corrupt it; and such as it is, it is known already."

:

Were poetry restricted to narration, perhaps invention might be considered its essence, though it would be rather presumptuous to assert, that he who is the most ingenious in framing a new tale, is therefore the best poet. But poetry is not limited, it embraces description, argument, morality, the passions, and man, as an intelligent agent; then why not religion? "Why not?" answers the Doctor, "because religion must be shown as it is." And must not nature, we reply, be shown as it is? And can nothing be poetically described, that is "known already?" Why, then, did Thomson choose the Seasons for his theme, and produce one of the most beautifully descriptive poems to be found in any language? How many persons have seen a landscape for years, and found in it nothing extraordinary, nothing but what is common-place, and yet, when they have viewed its image on the canvass, have experienced the highest delight in contemplating the skill of the artist, and by a re-action have afterwards found the landscape itself beautiful. So it is with the subjects of poetry, as was long since remarked by a Roman bard.* Weston, the residence of Cowper, has little in it to allure the passing traveller, more than is afforded by the circumjacent scenery; but, such is the power of genius, that the bridge," with its wearisome but needful length," the low-roofed cottage, designated by the poet as "the pheasant's nest," the ring of elms encircling the herdsman's hut,-the proud alcove, the vista in Sir John Throgmorton's woods,-these and many other points of view, all become interesting, and excite admiration. And Ut pictora poetis erit. Hor.

is there nothing analogous to this in religious poetry? May not he who has passed unheeded, mercies received and sins unpunished, be awakened from his insensibility by a display of the Divine attributes in harmonious numbers? May not that of which he was before convinced by reason, become the means of humbling his pride and elevating his affections, when it touches his finer feelings? To maintain that because religion must be shown as it is, no poetical grace can be bestowed upon it, is as much at variance with reason, as to say that a faithful copy cannot please, because it contains nothing meretricious; for its very faithfulness may be the cause of pleasure. We indeed agree with Dr. Johnson, that, "omnipotence cannot be exalted; infinity cannot be amplified; Perfection cannot be improved;" but we believe that these attributes of Deity, when reverently viewed and earnestly expatiated on, may be the materials of devotion in the reader, as they had previously been in the poet who tunes his verses in their praise.

The duties of contemplative piety are stated by Dr. Johnson to be these, thanksgiving, supplication, repentance, faith, each of which he endeavours to show is unsuitable for poetry. Now as we are decidedly of opinion that they are all legitimate subjects for the poet; we purpose to refute the Doctor by examples, so that if we should fail in argument, it may be obvious that we have facts on our side. He says: "Thanksgiving, the most joyful of all human effusions, yet addressed to a Being without passions, is confined to a few modes, and is to be felt rather than expressed." Why not expressed? Does not the Book of Psalms abound with expressions of thankfulness, couched in highly poetical language? Why should man, the only intellectual inhabitant of the world, be silent in his Maker's praise, when he observes that every thing is contrived in Infinite wisdom, and love. The royal Psalmist not only vents his own feelings, but calls on the hills, the rivers, and the inferiour animals, to join in the chorus. Thomson's Seasons abound with passages of thanksgiving; they are scattered through the Paradise Lost, and lend a peculiar charm to the Task. Who has read Mrs. Barbauld's Hymn, beginning,

VOL. I.

"Praise to God, immortal praise

For the love which crowns our days,"

82

Mr. Pierpont's Occasional Hymn, or Mr. Ware's Thanksgiving Hymn, without being sensible of the adaptation of gratitude to God to the purposes of poetry? As, however, most of our readers may have seen those pieces, we preser copying the following from Bishop Mant:

"Lord! grant me grace the powers thou giv'st, how weak so'er they be, Well pleased to proffer, as most due, in celebrating Thee!

་་

'Tis Thou hast formed the thinking soul, and Thou the speaking voice;
In what, if not in Thee, O Lord, should soul and speech rejoice ?

Thy works all praise Thee! noblest work of thine, bid man arise,
And in the general chorus join of earth, and sea, and skies!
Rude though it be, the artless psalm with Thee acceptance finds,
Poured forth from good and honest hearts, from meek and willing minds.

"Lord God Almighty! King of saints! who only cans't of right,
The blessing an i the honour claim, the glory and the might:
Though none can praise Thee worthily, yet who shall stint thy praise?
For great and marvellous thy works, and just and true thy ways!"

Dr. Johnson proceeds :--" Supplication of man to man may diffuse itself though many topics of persuasion; but supplication to God can only cry for mercy." It is not a little curious that Dr. Johnson himself, at the conclusion of his "Vanity of Human Wishes," should advise his reader as follows:

"Still raise for good the supplicating voice,

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice."

He then enumerates, as objects of prayer, obedient passions, a resigned will, faith, love, and patience, which cannot be included in the single cry for mercy, in the restricted sense in which it is employed by Dr. Johnson. His example too in another instance,--the motto to one of his Ramblers, taken from Boethius and translated by himself,-will more than overthrow his limitation of prayer to the single object of

mercy.

"O Thou, whose power o'er moving worlds presides,
Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides,

On darkling man in pure refulgence shine,

And cheer the clouded mind with light divine.

'Tis thine alone, to calm the troubled breast

With pious confidence and holy rest.

From Thee, great God! we spring, to thee we tend;
Path, motive, guide, original, and end!"

Even admitting it were true, that mercy is the only legitimate object of prayer, we must dispute the inference,

that it is irreconcilable with poetry, when we read such lines as these of Bishop Mant:

"If thou be willing, thou canst heal me, Lord !—
Now, as of old, thou heart-struck mourner, cry!
By sin polluted, and of God abhorred,

A helpless outcast, whither canst thou fly?
To Him, whom erst that leprous man adored,
Submissive fall, before him prostrate lie:

Vain hast thou learned all human aid to feel;

Thou knowest that none, save God alone, can heal;
Then haste, the Saviour seek, and at his footstool kneel!

"With ready might, with answering will to aid,

Now, as of old, the Saviour inakes reply.
He hears, he sees, before his throne displayed
The meek petition and the suppliant eye.
The sceptred hand of Majesty, arrayed

In glory, next the Holy One and High,

He stretches forth, in faith's bright vision seen,
Where aye he dwells the cherubim between,

And with compassion says, 'I will it, be thou clean l'

"Blest is the man, though sick with mortal taint,
Who knows the secret of his heart s disease!
Blest is the man. beneath his burden faint,

Who, where the fountain of his sorrow sees!
Blest, who in spite of nature's fond constraint,
From impotence of human succour flees;

And seeks repose and healing, where combined,
In glory's radiant tabernacle shrined,

Dominion arms the hand, and goodness fills the mind!

"O Jesus! bountiful as strong to save,

For mercy, as for mightiness, adored;

O give me grace thy healing power to crave,

If thou be willing, thou canst cleanse me, Lord!

Thy pity ne'er a ruthless answer gave,

In lowly fervency of heart implored.

Ne'er wilt thou spurn the sinner's contrite soul,

Ne'er see unmoved the tears of anguish roll,

But gracious still, reply,-'I will it, be thou whole.' "

A similar answer may be given to the next position of Dr. Johnson, which is, that "repentance, trembling in the presence of the Judge, is not at leisure for cadences and epithets." As an improvisatore in English poetry has never yet appeared, except, perhaps, in the production of an epigram or some similar levity,--this must be admitted to be generally true; but the man who, having confessed his sins and implored pardon, has received a holy evidence of having attained it, may be able, on a retrospect, to impart to others his own feelings. It is true also, that as "pity melts the soul to love," so does sorrow incline it to poetry. Burns describes