gether upon the wings of the Epic Muse, each would astonish us with a diction, with trains of thought, and with imagery peculiar to himself. Such is the mighty power, and so inexhaustible are the resources of poetical genius. It is her prerogative to give a freshness and originality to every thing that she touches. While, therefore, the seasons continue to revolve, and the lakes and mountains remain or the dew glistens in the eye of the morning ;while there is an emerald isle or golden fleece in the blue depths of ether--while there is animal life to be happy in the fields, or a note of music in the woods, or a glorious sunset, or a starry evening-while the mind of man, that sublime ruin, that world of wonders, remains to be studied, and its operations to be described, poetry can never languish for want of materials or machinery, suited to its purposes. Looking at nature, with the same eye which by far the greater number of poets have hitherto employed, there is enough to delight and instruct mankind, for ages yet to come.

But there is another view of the subject before us, which warrants still more pleasing anticipations. Hitherto the lyre has been chiefly in the hands of 'strangers to the covenants of promise.' But few of the gifted children of song, have been experimental and warm-hearted christians. Having their understandings darkened,' the great majority of them have not discovered those beauties and glories, which shine so brightly in the wisdom and benevolence of a Father, and in the condescension and love of a Redeemer. Very little, indeed, of our most admired poetry, is at all imbued with the spirit of the Gospel. But the time is coming, when the most distinguished professors of the art, will sit down with pleasure at the feet of David and Isaiah-when the very soul of

poetry will be love to God and good will to men-when the highest and most exquisite conceptions of true genius, will be consecrated to the cause of pure and undefiled religion;' and when, sitting down to commune with nature, whether in the sunny day or the solemn twilight, she will find

Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.'

In this view, it is scarcely an objection, that the field of poetry has been so often explored by the favorites of the Nine. They have left more that is truly valuable, than they have taken away. There are many sacred enclosures which but few have entered at all; and how does piety enrich and elevate and sanctify the imagination and the heart! It is the vital principle of the fairest forms in the regions of poetry. It identifies the brightest and loveliest creations of the poet, with the warmest emotions of the christian.

O how does the soul kindle, how does the heart exult as we proceed, and the rising light of the latter day shines brighter and brighter upon our path! What changes will be wrought in the character and condition of mankind, as the millennium advances and rolls blissfully away. Upon how many new and delightful eminences will the poets of distant generations be placed-what glorious manifestations of the divine character will be unfolded to their view-how many themes as yet unsung will call forth the noblest powers of their minds, and consecrate them by the most pious effusions of the heart! Surely the millennium must be the golden age of poetry.