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butes of God. The "Satires" and the "Night Thoughts" of Dr. Young had, however, already proved that it was more than possible for the same mind to be engaged on topics so widely dissimilar, and his success had demonstrated that there was nothing incompatible in this diversified direction of the same poetical talents and mental energies.

With this illustrious example before him, the author called forth all his powers, and sent his "Omnipresence of the Deity" into the world. On its first appearance it was seized with much avidity by various classes of readers, many of whom were no doubt actuated by very different motives. A perusal of its pages soon gave circulation to its fame, and this was followed by a demand for copies which the first impression was inadequate to supply. One edition after another has since been called for, and the eighth is now in circulation.

Of this poém many of the literary journals have spoken in terms of high panegyric; and nearly all of them, favorably. It is but fair to state, that the editor of the Literary Gazette seized an early opportunity to expatiate on its excellencies.*

During the subsequent editions through which the work has passed, the author has introduced some slight

alterations in the construction of several lines, and imparted to others various minute and delicate touches, which, in their combined effect, have given to the whole a stronger approximation towards perfection. Additional lines are also interspersed throughout the whole, amounting to about twenty pages, but without in the least respect altering any feature of its original character.

Having called his readers to witness the birth of creation, and to see how the Holy Spirit

"With mighty wings outspread Dovelike, sate brooding on the vast abyss, And made it pregnant,'

the author, in the following lines, invites us to contemplate the ubiquity of God:

"And thus Thou wert, and art the Foun-
tain soul,

And countless worlds around thee live and roll;
In sun and shade, in ocean and in air,
Diffused, yet undiminished-every where :
From worlds to atoms, angels down to man.
All life and motion from Thy source began,

"Lord of all being, where can fancy fly,
To what far realms, unmeasured by thine eye?
Where can we hide beneath Thy blazing sun,
Where dwell'st Thou not, the boundless, view-
less One ?

"Shall guilt couch down within the cavern's
gloom,

And quivering, groaning, meditate her doom?
Or scale the mountains where the whirlwinds
And in the night-blast cool her fiery breast?

rest,

* We cannot here forbear quoting a specimen from each of the reviews in the London Literary Gazette of the above works of Montgomery. They show that there must either have been a difference in the merit of the two works which one could hardly believe possible in the productions of the same pen within so short a period, or that the judgment of the editor must have been influenced, in one or both cases, by something else than the intrinsic value of the work under review. In speaking of "The Age Reviewed," the Gazette of June 9, 1827, has the following remarks:-" Other bilious creatures try to spit and sputter their phlegm out in periodicals, or, at largest, in bits of pamphlets: but here we have the disease in the afflicting form of octavo, and the quantity of froth and filth has a claim to attract more medical notice, and demand from humanity more curative physic... For the maladies of alliteration and antithesis, which constitute the whole virus of his pseudo poetry, we see no hope of cure: they are not merely in, they are the system; and it would be as easy to make a Demosthenes out of a dumbwaiter, as a poet out of such garbish..... Thus we have a compound of ignorance, incomprehensible verbiage, mean abuse, nonsense, vulgarity, folly, and obscenity-altogether one of the most despicable publications that ever insulted public taste-pushed forward with a degree of egotism and assurance, which, if ever information and judgment should accrue to the writer, (a result hardly to be hoped,) must be the source of much regret and mortification to him in his maturer years."-In a review of "The Omnipresence of the Deity," the same writer, in the Literary Gazette for Feb. 2, 1828, thus speaks of that work and its author:-"We have no hesitation in ranking it in the very highest class of English Sacred Poesy. It reflects a new lustre on the name of Montgomery; and well deserves the utmost favor both of religious and poetical readers..... We most heartily recommend this extraordinary production to all the admirers of true genius..... It is indeed a magnificent and sublime composition..... Mr. M.'s temperature is of the true and high poetic tone..... He has the soul to attempt, and the capacity to reach, the nobler, the noblest, inspirations of the Muse."

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blast,

How did Thy presence smite all Israel's eye! How dreadful were the gleams of Deity!

"There is a voiceless eloquence on earth, Telling of Him who gave her wonders birth; And long may I remain th' adoring child Of nature's majesty, sublime or wild; Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea, All take their terrors and their charms from Thee,-

From Thee, whose hidden but supreme control Moves through the world, a universal soul."

After surveying the beauties of nature with which our earth is richly adorned, and the sublimer spectacles which it occasionally presents to view, and discovering that the "mercyfountains of Divinity stream through all," he thus directs his contemplation to the starry heavens :

"Now turn from earth to yonder glorious sky, Th' imagin'd dwelling-place of Deity!" Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright, Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night, While half the world is lapp'd in downy dreams, And round the lattice creep your midnight

beams,

How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies!

"And when, oblivious of the world, we stray
At dead of night along some noiseless way,
How the heart mingles with the moon-lit hour,
As if the starry heavens suffused a power!
See! not a cloud careers yon pensile sweep,
A waveless sea of azure, still as sleep;
Full in her dreamy light, the Moon presides,
Shrin'd in a halo, mellowing as she rides ;
And far around, the forest and the stream
Bathe in the beauty of her emerald beam:

No stormy murmurs roll upon the waves.
Nature is hush'd, as if her works adored,
Still'd by the presence of her living Lord!
"And now, while through the ocean-man-
tling haze

A dizzy chain of yellow lustre plays,
And moonlight loveliness hath veil'd the land,
Go, stranger, muse thou by the wave-worn

strand :

Cent'ries have glided o'er the balanc'd earth,
Myriads have bless'd, and myriads curs'd their
birth;

Still, yon sky-beacons keep a dimless glare,
Unsullied as the God who thron'd them there!
Though swelling earthquakes heave the as-
tounded world,

And king and kingdom from their pride are
hurl'd,

Sublimely calm, they run their bright career,
Unheedful of the storms and changes here.
We want no hymn to hear, or pomp to see,
For all around is deep divinity!"

In speaking of man's immortality, the author, in the following extract, inquires how, if this doctrine is not true, we are to account for the high aspirations of the soul.

"And shall the soul, the fount of reason, die,
When dust and darkness round its temple lie ?
Did God breathe in it no ethereal fire,
Dimless and quenchless, though the breath ex-

pire ?

Then why were godlike aspirations given,
That, scorning earth, so often frame a heaven?
Why does the ever-craving wish arise
For something nobler than the world supplies?
Ah, no! it cannot be that men were sent
To live and languish on in discontent;
That Soul was moulded to betrayful trust,
To feel like God, and perish like the dust."

These quotations will give to those of our readers who have not read the volume from which they are taken, a better idea of its nature and merits than any remarks we could make. Faults may be detected in these specimens, and throughout the work; but we think the candid reader will agree with us that they are such as almost necessarily belong to the early years of the author, and are infinitely more than atoned for by the genius and beauty with which they are accompanied.

In May, 1828, but four months after the appearance of his "Omnipresence of the Deity," Mr. Montgomery came again before the public as the author of a work of a very different character, entitled, "The Puffiad: a Satire." The object of the author in

The lull'd winds, too, are sleeping in their this poem seems to have been to at

caves,

tack the practice of Puffing, and its

professors, particularly those in the literary line, against whom he pours out a flood of wrath. The charges of being too personal in his attacks on eminent individuals, of using mean comparisons, and coarse and vituperative language, were preferred against him by more than one periodical journal; and we must give it as our opinion, that although there are many clever passages in the poem, the Puffiad was not worthy of the high fame which its author had so recently and deservedly acquired. We can only quote the following lines, in which Mr. M. speaks in no very flattering terms of his contemporary poets.

create so much surprise as his "Omnipresence of the Deity," although, as a whole, in no degree inferior to that work; for the genius and strength of talent displayed in it were not so unexpected, the perusal of the former having given its readers a knowledge of what the author was capable in treating of subjects which require that the Poet should

"Tread on shadowy ground, sink Deep-and aloft ascending, breathe in worlds To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil."

As a review of this volume has already been published in the Atheneum,* it will be unnecessary at present to do more than select a few short

"Like a mix'd herd of pigs, the sons of extracts. From the fate of Genius

rhyme,

Methinks I see them up Parnassus climb:
One grunts an epic with a hideous howl,
And nods his pond'rous head, and shakes his
jowl;

Another, half between a grunt and groan,
Snuffles along, delighted with his tone;
The last, a little, whimpering, frisky thing,
Squeaks a shrill stanza on the state and king.
Two faults, amid ten thousand more, combine
To bring dishonor on the poet's line;
FACILITY and DULNESS:--both alike
With sickly weariness the reader strike:
First comes your vain-struck versifying fool,
Who boasts at every hour his rhyme to rule ;
So acquiescent is his frothy Muse,

She drivels nonsense whensoe'er he choose;
By sea or land--at supper or at tea--
A-bed or up-one living rhyme is he!

"And round him, when he takes his quill in
hand,

What viewless, trash-inspiring Spirits stand!
First, Flippancy with her insensate tongue,
Then Metaphor amid her daubings hung,
Then Rhyme, with bells upon her hands and
toes,

And nimble Nonsense cackling as she goes!
Thus aided, boldly is the strain begun,
And ready lines like loosen'd sluices run;
While in one changeless, inexpressive chime,
The syllables rush scamp'ring into rhyme!"

In October, 1828, Mr. M. again appeared in the field in which he had previously reaped so rich a harvest of fame-that of Sacred Poetry. The work which he now presented to the public consisted of four poems,-"A Universal Prayer; Death; a Vision of Heaven; and a Vision of Hell," and two minor pieces: the whole in blank This volume was well received by the public. It did not indeed

verse.

we quote a portion, as an example
probably of the writer's own emotions.

"To have thy glory mapp'd upon the chart
Of Time, and be immortal in the truth
And offspring of a lofty soul; to build
A monument of mind, on which the world
May gaze, and round it future ages throng,-
Such is the godlike wish forever warm
And stirring in thy spirit's depth: and oft
Beneath the mute magnificence of heaven,
When wandering at the radiant hour of noon,
Ambition dares, and hope secures thee all!

"Romantic boy! ambition is thy curse;
And ere upon the pinnacle of fame
Thou stand'st, with triumph beaming from thy
brow,

The grave will hold thee and thy buried hopes.
The path to glory is a path of fire

To feeling hearts, all gifted though they be,
And martyrs to the genius they adore:
The wear of passion and the waste of thought,
The glow of inspiration, and the gloom
That like a death-shade clouds the brightest
hour,-

And that fierce rack on which a faithless world
Will make thee writhe-all these ennerving

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* See page 240, vol. 1.

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O that mine eye could pierce yon azure cope! Thus stirred the daring thought; and while it warm'd

Within, a trance like heavenly music stole
Upon my spirit, weaning earthly sense,
Till, in a vision, up the airy deep
It darted, as a sky-bird to the clouds!
"Thus disembodied, thro' the air I wing'd,
Till earth beneath me in the glassy depth
Lay twinkling like a star."

Of youth, in manhood's more imposing cares.
Nor titled pomp, nor princely mansions; swell
The cloud of envy o'er my heart; for these
Are oft delusive, though adored : but when
The Spirit speaks, or beauty from the sky
Descends into my being-when I hear
The storm-hymns of the mighty ocean roll,
Or thunder sound, the champion of the storm!
Then feel I envy for immortal words,
The rush of living thought; oh! then I long
To dash my feelings into deathless verse,

He recognises Milton in the celes- That may administer to unborn time,

tial regions; but,

"Fairest of all fair visions seen above, Remember'd loves and unforgotten friends Were recognised again! Along a mead Of bright immensity I saw them stray; Not anguish-worn, or rack'd with inward fears, But shining in the beauty of the bless'd :Oh! ye in life so loved, in death so mourned! How oft affection through the desart world Delights to track ye where your feet have trod, Thro' fav'rite walks, or fancy-haunted bowers! On twilight breezes wing your voices? or In fairy music fraught with infant years, Are echoes woven from your hymns above? In mournful days and melancholy hours We think of you: we shrine ye in the stars, And recreate ye in celestial dreams!"

We must quote one eloquent burst of personal feeling.

"How oft,-be witness, Guardian of our days!

In noons of young delight, while o'er the down, Humming like bees, my happy playmates roam'd,

I loved on high and hoary crag to muse,
And round the landscape with delighted eye:
The sky besprinkled o'er with rainbow hues,
As if angelic wings had wanton'd there;
The distanced city capp'd with hazy towers;
And river shyly roaming by its banks
Of green repose,-together with the play
Of elfin-music on the fresh-wing'd air,-
Entranced with these, how often have I glow'd
With thoughts that panted to be eloquent,
Yet only ventured forth in tears!

"And now,
Though haply mellow'd by correcting time,
I thank thee, Heaven, that the bereaving world
Hath not diminish'd the subliming hopes

And tell some lofty soul how I have lived
A worshiper of Nature and of Thee!"

What need of any panegyric, after quoting passages like these?

From the preceding sketch it will be seen that Mr. Montgomery is still a very young man. Through a train of favorable circumstances, but more by intrinsic merit, he has written himself into reputation; we hope he will have the prudence not to write himself out of it. We would strongly caution him against venturing his chabeen less successful would rejoice at racter for trifles. Many who have his downfall, and even lend a helping hand to accomplish his overthrow. The pinnacle to which he is elevated is hazardous in the extreme.-We must say of him, in conclusion, and it is his most encouraging praise, that we think him capable of much more than he has done : he has feelings that require to be cultivated by thoughts, -there are high models for him to emulate, and a store of years that may be sown for golden harvest ;—and our parting advice is, "While we commend you for the present, let your own hopes dwell upon the future,-for futurity is the poet's best heritage."

THE SPLENDID ANNUAL.

[The following humorous description of the pleasures and pains attending an elevation to, and fall from, rank and power, is by the author of " Sayings and Doings.' It is from the July number of a monthly journal intended as a continuation of the Anniversary," an Annual, which last year ranked among the first of the many elegant volumes of the same character. Mr. Scropps says, in his introduc

66

tion, that having heard this work called a splendid annual, he is induced to publish in its pages his own history, hoping for sympathy from its readers, seeing that he has been a

SPLENDID ANNUAL" himself.]

My name is Scropps-I am an Alderman-I was Sheriff-I have been Lord Mayor-and the three great eras of my existence were the year of

my shrievalty, the year of my mayoralty, and the year after it. Until I had passed through this ordeal I had no conception of the extremes of happiness and wretchedness to which a human being may be carried, nor ever believed that society presented to its members, an eminence so exalted as that which I once touched, or imagined a fall so great as that which I experienced.

I came originally from that place to which persons of bad character are said to be sent-I mean Coventry, where my father for many years contributed his share to the success of parliamentary candidates, the happiness of new married couples, and even the gratification of ambitious courtiers, by taking part in the manufacture of ribands for election cockades, wedding favors, and cordons of chivalry; but trade failed, and, like his betters, he became bankrupt, but, unlike his betters, without any consequent advantage to himself; and I, at the age of fifteen, was thrown upon the world with nothing but a strong constitution, a moderate education, and fifteen shillings and eleven pence three farthings in my pocket.

With these qualifications I started from my native town on a pedestrian excursion to London; and although I fell into none of those romantic adventures of which I had read at school, I met with more kindness than the world generally gets credit for, and on the fourth day after my departure, having slept soundly, if not magnificently, every night, and eaten with an appetite which my mode of travelling was admirably calculated to stimulate, reached the great metropolis, having preserved of my patrimony no less a sum than nine shillings and seven pence.

The bells of one of the churches in the city were ringing merrily as I descended the heights of Islington; and were it not that my patronymic Scropps never could, under the most improved system of campanology, be jingled into anything harmonious, I have no doubt I, like my great pre

decessor Whittington, might have heard in that peal a prediction of my future exaltation; certain it is I did not; and, wearied with my journey, I took up my lodging for the night at a very humble house near Smithfield, to which I had been kindly recommended by the driver of a return postchaise, of whose liberal offer of the moiety of his bar to town I had availed myself at Barnet.

a

As it is not my intention to deduce moral from my progress in the world at this period of my life, I need not here dilate upon the good policy of honesty, or the advantages of temperance and perseverance, by which I worked my way upwards, until after meriting the confidence of an excellent master, I found myself enjoying it fully. To his business I succeeded at his death, having several years before, with his sanction, married a young and deserving woman, about my own age, of whose prudence and skill in household matters I had long had a daily experience. In the subordinate character of his sole domestic servant, in which she figured when I first knew her, she had but few opportunities of displaying her intellectual qualities, but when she rose in the world, and felt the cheering influence of prosperity, her mind, like a balloon soaring into regions where the bright sun beams on it, expanded, and she became, as she remains, the kind unsophisticated partner of my sorrows and my pleasures, the friend of my heart, and the guiding star of my destinies.

To be brief, Providence blessed my efforts and increased my means; I became a wholesale dealer in everything, from barrels of gunpowder down to pickled herrings; in the civic acceptation of the word I was a merchant, amongst the vulgar I am called a drysalter. I accumulated wealth; with my fortune my family also grew, and one male Scropps, and four female ditto, grace my board at least once in every week; for I hold it an article of faith to have a sirloin of roasted beef upon my table on Sun

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