Sin, strife, or sorrow, cannot come, Life's silent tenor here to know; To gaze with pure and blameless eyes; To nurse those holy thoughts within Which fit us for the skies, And to regenerate hearts dispense Is it not so? And yet we blame Plunge we in sin's black flood, yet dream To keep the heart from earthly stain ; Doth it not seem as man mistook For an eternity? As if This cloudland were his final home; To Power he says "I trust in thee!" The avenging shafts of Destiny, And disappoint the funeral urn: To Pride" Behold I must and can!" To Gold-"Thou art my talisman And necromantic rod !" Down Time's far stream he darts his eye, Oh, fool, fool, fool!-and is it thus Or dost thou hope, in frenzied pride, Where are the realms on which they trod? While conquest's blood-red flag unroll'd, And man proclaim'd himself a god! Where are the sages, and their saws, Whence wisdom shone with dazzling beams? The legislators, and their laws, What are they now but dreams? Although one parish gave them birth, To reap the whirlwind for our pains; On the dark day of need to find All proffer'd ransom Time disdains ; All that was once our idle boast, Weigh'd in the balance, dust shall be; Death knocks-frail man gives up the ghost— He dies-and where is he? Vanished for ever and forgot, The place that knew him knows him not! And know that from this dream call'd life, The path is straight-the palm is sure! Subdued in heart, and craving grace, And though their dye be black as night, His blood can make-has made them white! 66 THE ANTEDILUVIANS; OR, THE WORLD DESTROYED. IT is many years," says Dr. M'Henry," since I first entertained the design of writing a narrative poem, on some great event in the history of Man; but the selection of that event was a matter of no slight difficulty. A good subject, I knew, was the first step towards success in any literary undertaking; and I resolved to adopt none which I did not feel persuaded would form a recommendation to my work." Mrs. Hannah and Mr. Thomas Moore, and our friend Mr. John Stewart, have furnished us with a elaborate pictures of gentlemen respectively in search of a wife, a religion, and a horse; but none of the three is so impressive as the Doctor's of a poet in search of a subject. In that search his sconce has become slape-his eyes have lost their lustre -his frame has been bent earthwards; so that, while yet little more than threescore, his semblance is that of extreme old age. Even we ourselves look-nay feel young, in his presence; to us "The oldest man he seems that ever wore grey hairs." This comes of devoting one's-self for many years to the selection-for the subject of a narrative poem-of some great event in the history of man. Their multitude is overwhelming and shifting as the clouds. An event that to the eyes of imagination overshadows the whole morning sky-at meridian looks but a speck-in the gloaming is gone. "Among great events, alas! how few good subjects!" mentally exclaims the solitary, with a sigh. But a good subject is "the first step towards success in any literary undertaking" and till that is taken, lack-a-daisical indeed must be the aspect of the meditative poet-sitting by himself with his pen in his hand. Every year he grows harder and harder to please-subjects not to be sneezed at on the score of size, to his fastidious optics seem contemptibly small-mountains dwindle into molehills-rivers into rills-seas into ponds; and the consequence is, that "resolved to adopt no subject which he does not feel persuaded would form a recommendation to his work," he adopts none at all, and, after a term protracted far beyond the narrow span usually allotted to human life, he dies without his fame, and leaves no proof of his existence here below, except, perhaps, a few pieces of prose. Such, however, will not be the fate of Dr. M'Henry-though he has made a narrow escape. "The annals of mankind," he acutely remarks, “furnish many great and stirring events, well adapted to poetic narration; but I wanted one not only great in its character, but universal in its effects, that all men might feel an interest in its details." That was a noble ambition, and proved how just an appreciation the Doctor had been led to make of his powers, aspiring very early to the most extensive practice. "Neither the founding of a state," he exultingly declares, "the achievement of a victory, nor the overthrow of an empire, was therefore adequate to my wishes." "Tantæ molis erat Romanam condere gentem," a line by many thought to be magnificent, seemed almost mean to his imagination Μῆνιν ἄειδε, Θέα, Πηληιάδεω Αχιλλῆος, an invocation by all felt to be sublime, fell far short of the reaches of his soul and thus the Iliad and the Eneid appeared to the Doctor to be respectable poems in their way-" on great and stirring events, well adapted to poetic narration"-but because "not universal in their effects," sufficient for the genius of a Homer and a Virgil, but inadequate to that of a M'Henry, born in the fulness of time and for the illumination of the whole race of man. "The discovery of the New World," he admits, " was an event of a great and general interest; but it was already poetically occupied, and therefore forbidden to me by both courtesy and policy." America, it may be remarked as we go along, is not a new world, but merely one of the four quarters of the old-and the old world went on well enough for the purposes of poetry, while it was supposed to consist but of Europe, Asia, and Africa — yet do we cheerfully grant that the disco James M'Henry, M.D. London, Cradock: 1839 very of the fourth quarter was "an universal in its effects"-declare "the event of great and general interest," founding of a state, the achievement not unworthy even of the Doctor's of a victory, and the overthrow of an muse in its humbler flights. But it is empire, inadequate to his wishes”manifest that he left it, without envy, to be desirous of a subject more unithe weaker wings of Southey; for he versally interesting than the discoveradds—“ I was, in truth, desirous of a ing of the New World"-envy Milton subject more universally interesting his "fortunate choice of the Creation than even this❞—and he leaves the less and Fall of Man”—and finally fix on illustrious Laureate to enjoy the cir- the subject next in exaltation and unicumscribed fame of his Madoc. versality to Milton-" which space in all its extent, and time in all its duration, could afford?” "I considered," continues the Doctor, "that the poet who had made the strongest impression on the world, had been enabled to do so by his fortunate choice of the most exalted and universal subject which space in all its extent, and time in all its duration, could afford the History of Creation and the Fall of Man. On that theme did the chief of poets not only find scope for the whole power of his genius, but his genius found excitement for unequalled elevation, and became invigorated by the grandeur and vastness of the topics presented to its contemplation." He does not inform us at what era of his search after a subject he first took into his serious consideration Milton's fortunate choice of Paradise Lost. Perhaps it was late in life. From that hour he set himself sedulously to look over" space in all its extent, and time in all its duration," for the subject next in exaltation and universality to the Creation and the Fall of Man. But that this allusion to Milton may not be misinterpreted, he has the humility to add, "if I were indeed so vain as to imagine that I possessed talents like his, where could I find a subject on which to exert them like Paradise Lost? There never can be another poetic theme connected with human affairs of equal grandeur and sublimity. Nor will there probably ever be one so felicitously treated as this has been in that wonderful poem." We acquit Dr. M'Henry of the vanity of imagining that he possesses the "talents" of Milton. But if he does not believe that he is a poet of the highest order-next to that where Milton sits supreme or sole-then he must be a great ninny. For who, short of a great poet or a great ninny, would "for many years entertain the design of writing a narrative poem on some great event in the history of man"-keep searching the "annals of mankind" for an event "not only great in its character, but Milton having anticipated M'Henry in the Creation and Fall, the Doctor, though often damped, was never dismayed-and on "the first of April morn by the chime"-A.D. 18-, by a desperate but triumphant effort of inventive genius, he bethought himself of— THE FLOOD. "Still in the annals of mankind there remained one subject unappropriated by the Epic Muse, which, although to sustain it suitably required less daring flights than that which was chosen by Milton, was yet amply magnificent and universally interesting-namely, THE FORTUNES AND CATASTROPHE OF THE ANTEDILUVIAN WORLD." What a breakfast the Doctor must have devoured that morning! or was he too much agitated to eat? "Throw physic to the dogs-now shall I show that poetry is no drug-here goes a bumper to Apollo !" And so saying, the inspired M.D. turned up his diamond-ringed little finger-and in a cup of the "fragrant lymph that cheers but not inebriates," revelled beneath the beams of the god unshorn, and looked " rapt, inspired," as if he would "Break Priscian's head, and ravish all the Nine !" But after a few hours, the Doctor seems to have subdued his exultation to a pitch of sober and sustained selfcomplacency that has never since de. serted him, and on that morning expressed itself in prayer. Assist me, THOU, whom in his match less song, With such acceptance, that great bard invoked. Fain would I hope that 'tis from thee proceeds The keen desire that animates my soul, A task so high and venturous to attempt, My song which to thy glory I devote," &c. Perhaps all this, and a good deal more of the same sort, had as well be omitted in a second edition. Here are some lines that may be allowed to remain. "'Tis that fond wish for an enduring name, Which urges every warm aspiring mind I feel it now o'ercome the lethargy Now, with unwonted courage, it defies And that most dreaded doom, the public scorn, Which grasps and mangles daring vanity." The Doctor complains of his "dormant fancy," his "indolence," his "lethargy," and his "sloth ;" and, true it is, that since the publication of some presentation copies of his Pleasures of Friendship, he has not contributed largely to our national poetry; but now 66 Bold and determined, now my spirit spreads, Adventurous pinions for an arduous flight, More arduous than has oft been tried by man, And with due strength successfully at tained." The most difficult department in the art of flying, is that which embraces the action of the wings in the first essays of the fowl-be he anceps or anserto assoilzie himself from the encum you would wonder to behold how they the Doctor. "This was the subject," In studying the annals of mankind, the Doctor saw "one subject unappropriated by the Epic Muse;" but he tule epic, according to the scholastic afterwards tells us, that whether "the meaning of the word, be awarded to this poem, is a matter of no importance, provided its readers derive enjoyment from its perusal. My great aim having been to produce an interesting poern on an interesting subject, I feel but little concern as to what shall be assigned." class of poetical productions the work fair-for the author of The AntediluviThis is hardly ans could not have been ignorant of the existence of James Montgomery's World before the Flood. It is not an epic poem; but it is an "interesting poem," on the subject which the Doctor says was unsung-and it is a narEarth-if we mistake not-is about poem. Byron's Heaven and the Antediluvians - so is Moore's Loves of the Angels. so is Reade's Wanderings of Cain; and Heraud's Judgment of the Flood is an epic. In More arduous than has oft been tried by no sense of the word, then, could it 66 brance of the earth. Once up, he has no real ground for uneasiness about coming down, especially if he has the sense to go large-before the windgoose-winged," and never attempt to tack. We have seen fowls of the earth enabled, by adopting such precautions, to keep company with fowls of the air, and perform more than respectably man ;" "An arduous flight, rative - be truly said that the subject was unsung; it had been sung in the English language-lyrically, narratively, dramatically, and epicly-and in many other tongues unknown to the Doc |