The character of English poetry is suited to our Gothic fondness for strong excitement; for we can better pardon an approach to the ridiculous, than a deficiency of interest. It would find abundance of congenial materials in the history of an age, in which human nature exhibited the extremes of virtue and depravity. When men not only defied, but courted danger,-when peril was sport, and instruments of death were playthings,-when power was right, and her will was law, when hospitality was a sacred duty, honour a religious feeling, and love grew into idolatry. The feelings of chivalry are hallowed in our souls; they were the feelings of our fathers, and we dwell upon them with an enthusiasm which proves us the very children of their blood. We "own a kindred spirit," which delights to escape from the Procrustean bed of modern refinement, to share in imagination their perilous adventures, and “hairbreadth scapes." Compared with these, our classical associations, early and assiduously as they have been impressed, are cold and inanimate, Play round the head, but come not near the heart.” The spirit of chivalry is not dead, but sleepeth; and a breath may wake its stirring influence within us. Its visible signs are every where around us. The bosoms it once fired are mouldering in the vaults, and their rude effigies slumber in marble beneath the Gothic arches of the ancient temples of our religion. We tread the very pavement which has been worn by their iron footsteps. The memorials of their knightly fame still hang in the halls, which once echoed to the sound of their antique revelry, calling on their descendants to emulate their heroic deeds,-and they have not called in vain! We still behold, with a throb of national us that this is an error of some blundering transcriber. The association between a blanket and a bed-curtain is obvious enough, and some luckless wight, whose nerves had been somewhat shaken by a curtain lecture, might have been guilty of such a confusion of ideas. These ingenious gentlemen have cut, if they have not untied, more intricate knots than this. We cannot think the circumstance of the greatest of British poets being a dramatic writer, merely accidental. Our poetry is essentially dramatic, and something whispers us, that again her proudest triumph will be on the stage. To the latter part of the sentiment of our valued correspondent, at the least, we cannot subscribe. Our expectations, and our wishes alike point us to a very different theatre for the exhibition of the triumphs of the muse.--EDIT. exultation, the trophies of Cressy and Poictiers, of Ascalon and the doubly renowned D'Acre; the battered shield, and the crescent-bearing standard, torn from its paynim master's grasp by the gauntletted hand of some stout croisader, We see, nay grasp the very weapons with which they did their "deeds of high emprize," till the excited fancy warms into creation, and peoples the empty air with "Throngs of knights, and barons bold," Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms. We have heard "the lances' shivering crash,"-have seen the charging steeds have beheld them rolling with their fallen masters in the dust. Can pictures thus vividly impressed have been but waking day-dreams? But it is not only memorials of strife and bloodshed we have received from the rude warriors of the olden time; they have bequeathed us far more valuable legacies in the courtesies which soften the asperities of war, and find in a defenceless foe, a friend ;-in the feeling which casts around the weakness of woman a charm, that exacts not protection merely, but devotion. The very liberties which form our proudest boast, were purchased by their valour. All that is venerable in our institutions, or elevated in our national character, we derive from them. Such feelings it is the province of poetry to foster and perpetuate: receiving more splendour than she imparts, her vivifying influence breathes upon them, "Like the sweet south upon a bank of violets Romance has reaped glorious laurels in our day; Coningsburgh and Ashby are become classic ground:* but she *We remember that some of our friends "frae the north countree," were not disposed to view with much complacency the foray of their great genius into the confines of English romance, nor properly to estimate the rich spoils he collected. The feeling is sufficiently explicable, but we could not sympathize with them; and were his long array of inestimable volumes to be destroyed one by one, like the Sibyl's, we would urge the" Author of Waverly" most tenaciously to cling to Ivanhoe, as best calculated of any single work to secure his immortality. The Tweed, perhaps, saw him "wing his southward flight," in a state something like Garrick's face, divided between comedy and tragedy, "And ruffled half his waves to form a tear." ought to be "wedded to immortal verse;" and the greatest of our bards might here find a nobler exercise of his high powers, and associations far more interesting to his readers, than in the wild tales," and luxuriant scenery of "the children of the sun." Φ. ORIGINAL LETTERS FROM PERSONS EMINENT FOR LEARNING OR PIETY. (Copied from a Collection of Autographs, in the possession of the Rev. Thomas Raffles, LL.D. of Liverpool.) VIII. FROM WILLIAM PENN TO RALPH FRETWELL. DR: R: FRETWELL I CAN truly Say yt my inward dear & fervent love in ye lasting & precious truth, affectionately Salutes thee and ye famely yt God hath called, redeemed & blessed in yr Island; to whom my Soul wisheth ye. enncrease of grace, mercy & peace, in christ Jesus our heavenly head; whom, all holding, our eye is single & clear, & our body full of marvellous light; blessed be his power. Dr: Ralph, I have wonder'd much yt. no account is come to my hand by any, in answear to myn, adviseing yt no measures be finally pitcht by ye. Fd" to Susqhanagh, till Some body be deputed, deliberately to see & understand things in thes parts, yt. your bottom may be good, fixt & answearing your care & charge. I only add yt the Skulkill, called by ye. Dutch, but of ye. Indians Manainnek, running by ye western bancks of Philadelphia; bateing one fall, not three foot high, is boatable with flats 200 miles, then there are 5 branches, or fountains feeding 5 branches, one of wch is alike boatable a days Journy, where unlaiding, in a days' time a wagon (for ye ground is pretty even) may goe to another river, almost as big as ye Skulkill, which is boatable to ye Susqhanagh in one day thus speaks Jacob Young, lately wth me, & several Indians But this I can say of my own Knowledge, yt for 50 miles up Skulkill falls, generally, one acre is worth two on delaware, & often more. B This much as to outward things. the affaires of truth are well among us, the Lord's power, very signal wth his people, wch is ye Crown of all, our improvemts every way & ye prospect of things I referr to ye bearer T. Gosling whom I love as a discreet & true man. wch with ye, endeared Salutations of love unfeined, ends this from Cordiall Why IX. FROM THE REV. JOHN, BERRIDGE TO MR. WOODGATE. [The Rev. John Berridge, a few of whose letters we are enabled to lay before our readers, was born at Kingston, in Northamptonshire, March 1st, 1716. His father, who was a wealthy farmer and grazier, designed him for business; but his mind was early directed to the ministry. To this his parents were for a while decidedly opposed, but finding his predilection for study, would totally unfit him for business, they at length yielded to his wishes; and after previous preparation he was entered of Clare Hall, Cambridge, Oct. 28, 1734, in the 19th year of his age. Here he pursued his studies with great avidity, and in 1749 accepted the qcuracy of Stapleford near Cambridge Jn the years 1755 he was admitted to the vicarage of Everton in Bedfordshire, where he continued to reside to the end of his life. He was a man of ardent piety, exemplary diligence, unaffected humility, and extraordinary benevolence; and appears very much to have resembled the celebrated Bernard Gilpin in his primitive hospitality. His purse was always at the service of the needy: his tables were served with a cold collation for his numerous hearers who came from far on Sabbath day, and his field and stable were open for their horses. Houses and barns were rented, lay preachers maintained, and his own travelling expenses defrayed, by himself. The income of his vicarage, his fellowship and of his patrimonial fortune, were appropriated to support his liberality, and even his family plate was converted into clothes for his itinerant preachers. He was well acquainted with the Rev. Messrs. Whitefield and Wesley, and was for many years a regular supply at the Tabernacle, London. He was very laborious both in his own parish and itinerating labours, chiefly in the counties of Bedford, Cambridge, Essex, Hertford, and Huntingdon. When abroad he would preach upon an average ten or twelve times a week, and ride 100 miles. He was a man of considerable eccentricity and ingenuity, as these letters will shew, but of unblemished reputation he died January 22d, 1793, in the 77th year of his age he published The Christian World Unmasked, and a volume of Hymns, called Sion's Songs.] DEAR SIR Everton. Apr. 20. 1773. Thro a Croud of Visitors, a weak Body, and weaker Spirits, I had neither Leisure nor Inclination to write in London: but being now returned into the Country, I must take up my Pen, else you may think me defective in brotherly Respect. From the little Conversation I had with You, I found my Heart united unto You, and feel a Brother's Kindness for You. Gowns, Bands, and academical Learning weigh but little with Me: what I look for in a Preacher, is the Spirit's Baptism, and a spiritual Ordination. Where these are found, I care not whether the Preacher comes in a Leather Jacket or a Cassock. If he brings a Christ in his Heart, he will warm his Audience, and prove his divine Commission. But Sir, I find it no easy Matter to walk with Christ, and keep up close Communion with Him; and a sad Work it is to mount a Pulpit without a Sense of Jesu's Presence. It is not mere Thinking upon |