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will readily excuse. The same indulgence, however, cannot be extended to the scholar of the present day; to him we must urge the sacred nature of Ecclesiastical truth, and the duty of pursuing it wherever it may be found;the peculiar interest which attends the warfare of the Church with the early race of Infidels, and its importance to the history of our faith. We may also urge, in favour of the Christian writers, that, at the least, they are as worthy of perusal, for the sake of style alone, as the Pagan authors, who, in the same age, opposed the Gospel. Perhaps no literary specimen can be produced from Heathenism of so humble a cast as the instructions of Commodianus. But Hermias is as neat as Lucian. Symmachus is surpassed by Ambrose. Lactantius writes with far more taste and elegance than Am. Marcellinus; and, in his own times, Augustin is without a rival. After the revival of literature, much narrowness prevailed on this subject, and the captious critic was ready to prove the force of his taste by snarling at the latinity of the ancients themselves. But sober learning and sound piety triumphed over the efforts of spleen and affectation; nor ought we to acquiesce in any attempt to revive a spirit, which, while it professes an extraordinary reverence for letters, tends to circumscribe their influence, undervalues the materials of Ecclesiastical History, and sacrifices truth to sound."-Pp. 10-12.

The second course of Lectures was on the History and Principles of Revelation, and was designed to "describe, in a regular manner, the scheme of revelation, and impress more fully on the young hearers its doctrines and duties. This was continued until 1812, when private events occurred, which so severely affected Dr. Ireland's mind and health as to take from him all inclination to continue his theological lectures at Westminster, or to accept the office of Professor of Divinity at Oxford, which was offered to him in the year 1813, when Dr. Howley, the present Archbishop of Canterbury, was promoted from thence to the See of London. The cause of religion and learning would, we doubt not, be promoted by the publication of those Lectures which were delivered in the latter course.

Dr. Ireland, in the year 1825, closed his preface with the following sentence, after remarking that he dated it "from the house to which his excellent predecessor once invited him for the purpose of obtaining the promise of the original work":

“What remains of my life will be dedicated to the watchful care of an establishment over which I am appointed to preside; and when that moment comes-which cannot be very distant-I can only pray that a successor may be selected, whose zeal and qualifications may repair any defect or error from which the foundation may have suffered during my superintendence, either in its temporal concerns or its sacred services.”

That solemn moment did not arrive until the second of September, 1842, so that he nearly completed his 81st year. He had been an invalid for nearly four years; but his illness was not of so severe a nature as to prevent his taking exercise, until within a few days of his death, when he was seized with alarming pains, and never again rose from his bed. He was by his own desire interred in Westminster Abbey, by the side of his old and intimate friend, William Gifford, who spoke of the Dean as "the companion of his youth, the friend of his maturer years, the inseparable and affectionate associate of his pleasures and his pains, his graver and his lighter studies." It had also been Mr. Gifford's dying request that their dust should mingle in the same grave. Both alike struggled with difficulties in early life, but both rose to deserved eminence. Gifford, as editor of The Quarterly Review, mentioning Dr.

Ireland's letter to Lord Brougham (in reply to some unfounded strictures respecting certain charities at Croydon), speaks of him as "a gentleman whom to mention is to praise, and whose virtues reflect honour on the high station he fills." This testimony of his specially attached friend is responded to by all who knew him, in regard to his character as a divine, a scholar, and a man.

He is said to have contributed many articles to The Quarterly Review, and published also, although anonymously, a tract on the Laws of Marriage and Divorce. As Dean of Westminster, he carried the imperial crown at the coronation of three of our Sovereigns, George IV., Wiliam IV., and Queen Victoria.

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There are some reforms in reference to Westminster Abbey, for which a strong desire has been expressed in several of the public prints; and if the late Dean hesitated to attempt, or was unable to effect, them, we trust Dean Turton will be more successful; and that every particular mentioned in the following extract from The Times may also be uniformly and universally remembered and acted upon in St. Paul's, and in every other cathedral: If the character of this noble building, the religio loci, has but fair play-if it is but shorn of its present appendages, of a verger and his sixpenny extortions-if there is but some visible sign of care and respect on the part of the ecclesiastical authorities-if Canons and Prebendaries are in somewhat more regular attendance at those services for the sake of which they enjoy their rich foundations-if those services were performed with more care-if singing-men were somewhat less free and easy, and singing-boys wore somewhat less dirty surplices than we find sometimes to be the case at present-if, in short, cathedrals showed a decent evidence of being consecrated to serious daily devotion-in this case, we believe, there would be no cause of fearing lest the flood of people should forget, even out of church hours, where they were.'

It has not been because Dean Ireland has not effected this, that he has been called "somewhat narrow-minded and bigotted"—but because he acted in the true spirit of such a reform, by refusing a place in Westminster Abbey for Thorwaldsen's statue of Lord Byron," which has been lying for years stowed away in the vaults of the Custom House." There let it remain; unless the genius-worshippers of a talented but licentious and infidel poet can find another place to please them. But we trust that Dean Turton will set his face against the introduction of any monumental memorials, into that sacred building, of irreligious, however eminently literary, characters. Dean Ireland, having penned the sentiments quoted above, acted with becoming consistency, as well as firmness.

We must conclude this notice, already exceeding our confined limits, by recording those noble bequests by which he has evidenced his benevolent recollection of the several places of his birth and education, the persons and places with which he had been connected in life, and the cause of "sound learning and religious education." He did but hereby continue the "liberal distribution" which characterized his life.

He gives to trustees, for the poor of Ashburton, £1000, and to the Devon and Exeter Hospital, £2000;-to found an exhibition in Oriel College, £2000, and a professorship of theology at Oxford, £10,000 ;to the Western Dispensary, £1000, and to the Westminster Hospital, £2000; to build a Chapel, in Westminster £5000;-to King's College, London, £2000, and to the newly formed school for the sons of Clergymen and others, £1000.-He gives £1000 to " Harriet Tuck, formerly an

excellent Sunday-school child in my parish of Islip, in the county of Oxford, and now deserving of my assistance."-His piano-forte, and all the original notes and manuscripts of Handel, to Mr. Brown Smith; and all the rest of his music to Mr. Turle, the celebrated organist of Westminster Abbey; and various legacies to friends from £100 to £5000, in addition to £25 to twenty of his oldest friends, to purchase mourning rings.

THE LIGHT OF THE PLEIADES.

[A LAY OF THE NEW YEAR.]

The New York Churchman, last year, gave, as forming the "Address of the Carriers of The Churchman to their Patrons," a poem, of which the following is an extract. It is preceded by stanzas which introduce it as the fancied song of Alcioné, the brighest of the seven stars called Pleiades (see Job, xxxviii. 31), and thence called the " Light of the Pleiades." They were fabled to have been the seven daughters of Atlas (probably an astronomer) and his wife Pleione, turned into stars by Jupiter, at the request of Atlas, because of their amiable virtues and mutual affection. They were called Pleiades from ple-ein, to sail, as being the "star of the ocean" to the benighted mariner at this season of the year. The sun entering this constellation on the 18th of May, they were called "The Virgins of the Spring." The poem will form an appropriate introduction to a table of the Episcopate of the United States, and be in itself interesting and instructive, as a poetical survey of the origin and fortunes of the Church, and the responsibility of its members.

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"Then 'mid light of kindred stars

Near his pathway I was hung; Like an orb of mildest hope

O'er his fearful splendors flung; Smiling, with my sisters mild, O'er his fierceness, rude and wild; To the trembling giving hope, When the dark horizon's scope Should, in future years, be riven With the storm-array of heaven. For a light and sign appointed,

Of the glad and fruitful spring;
Vestal-leader, dew-anointed,

Of the harvest gathering.
III.

"When the radiant Sons of GOD

Sang Creation's morning hymn, When, around the awful THRONE, Mightiest suns grew pale and dim, Then, amidst the shining train O'er whom vernal planets reign, I beheld thee, beauteous Earth! Springing like a dream to birth, Fresh in living green arrayed, As a world for angels made; Sparkling stream and broad blue river, Mountain, plain, and quiet dell, Ocean vast and sleepless ever;

Brightest scenes, remembered well.

"On the olden world I shone,

As the broad deep stream of Time, Age by age, went flowing on,

Dark with terror, red with crime!
Suns of empire rose and set,
Realms with seas of carnage wet
Builded many a mighty throne,
Ruling madly and alone;
Egypt old-Assyria-
Edom-Tyre-and Nineveh-
Orient Ind and Babylon,

Rich in arms, in arts, in glory,
Persia, Greece, and Macedon:
I have witnessed all their story.

V.

"Yes! I looked on mighty Rome Ruling through a thousand years; Haughty empire's eagle-home,

Won by seas of blood and tears ;-
I have seen her cohorts roll
From equator to the pole,
While the awe-struck nations stood,
Trembling round the living flood;
Till a mightier than she

Rose from wilds of Tartary;
Then her strength, as lightning riven,
Sank beneath barbaric might,
And her pride, as star from heaven,
Darkling fell, in clouds and night.

VI.

"Eighteen hundred years ago, Adding yet two score and one, 'Mid serenest midnight's glow

On the slumbering earth I shone! On the patient journeyings Of Arabia's magi-kings ; On thy walls, Jerusalem! And the homes of Bethlehem; On the shepherd-groups that there Watched all night with hymn and prayer ; On the virgin-mother, weeping,

Mingling tears of joy and love;
On the holy infant sleeping,

Stranger there, but known above.
VII.

"God's high kingdom cometh not
With the pomp of earthly state;
Nameless, in that humble spot,
Was JEHOVAH, increate:
Virgin-born Immanuel
Silent came with man to dwell;
To a few ignoble men

Angel tongues proclaimed him then,
But the great mad world went on,
Heedless of that Heavenly One!
Calmly from his throne of power
Looking on a conquered earth,
Cæsar blindly saw that hour

Big with endless empire's birth.

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XII.

"One in doctrine, order, aim,

Fed by pastors, GoD-ordained, Called by his own glorious name, Strong for CHRIST, by CHRIST sustained;

Rich in fruits, matured indeed,
From the Apostolic seed,
CATHOLIC in faith and heart,
Nobly did she bear her part:
Schism quailed before her frown,
Heresy sank shrieking down,
Primal creed and old Te Deum

Thrilled where darkest rites had been ; Heathen fane and Coliseum

With high praise resounded then.
XIII.

"Then, alas, through darkest years,
Earth-polluted, weak in love,
Faithless to the Saviour's tears

Did the Church herself approve;
Earthly lust,-profane ambition,-
Hellish strivings,- dark division,-
Judas-pontiffs, godless men,
Rent the Saviour's body then;
East and West, in maddest strife,
Fought for empire to the life!
Schism, craft, idolatry,

In a seven-fold curse came down :
Fiends in darkness laughed to see
Dimness, blood upon her crown.

XIV.

"Yet, O GOD! thy grace was given,
In the deepest hour of woe,
When the Church, as left of heaven,

Seemed no light, no strength to know;
O'er the falling Papal throne,
Thou didst watch, and thou alone!
Through the conflict's earnest din
With that bold bad man' of sin,
Voices mild, inspired by thee,
Breathed of faith and charity;
Mild heroic men arose

To proclaim thine ancient truth, Patient, fearless whom woes Hindered not, nor joy, nor ruth.

men,

XV.

"Worthy branch of Holy Church,

England's Church was faithful then,

When the Apostolic line,

Broken by misguided men,

(Though by GoD's own fingers wrought)
Seemed despis'd, as thing of nought.
Bold as him of Eisleben,
Wiser than the Genevan,
Hooper, Ridley, Cranmer, stood,
Breasting error's roaring flood,
Faithful to the Church till death,
Loving, guarding, watching her,-
Blessing her with dying breath
Like the sainted Latimer!

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