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MRS. GREVILLE. Of Mrs. Greville, whose « Prayer for Indifference” has been so much admired, I cannot, after the greatest search, give the least account

PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE.

The tear which Piry taught to flow,

The eye shall then disown;
The heart that melts for others' woe,

Shall then scarce feel its own:
The wounds which now each moment bleed,

Each moment then shall close;
And tranquil days shall still succeed

To nights of calm repose.
O Fairy Elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send,
And 80 may never-fading bliss

Thy flowery paths attend!
So may the glow-worm's glimmering liglit

Thy tiny footsteps lead
To some new region of deliglit,

Unknown to mortal tread!
And be thy acorn goblet fill'd

With heaven's ambrosial dew,
From sweetest, freshest flowers distillid,

That shed fresh sweets for you! And what of life remains for me,

I'll pass in sober ease; Half-pleased, contented will I be,

Content but lialf to please,

Oft I've implored the gods in vain,

And pray'd till I've been weary:
For once I'll seek my wish to gain

Of Oberon the fairy.
Sweet airy being, wanton sprite

Who lurk’st in woods unseen,
And oft by Cynthia's silver light,

Trip'st gayly o'er the green;
If e'er thy pitying heart was moved,

As ancient stories tell,
And for th’ Athenian maid 1 who loved,

Thou sought'st a wondrous spell;
O deign once more t'exert thy power!

Haply some herb or tree,
Sovereign as juice of western flower,

Conceals a balm for me.
I ask no kind return of love,

No tempting charm to please;
Far from the heart those gifts remove,

That sighs for peace and ease:
Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know,

That, like the needle true,
Turns at the touch of joy or woe,

But, turning, trembles too.
Far as distress the soul can wound,

'Tis pain in each degree.
'Tis bliss but to a certain bound;

Beyond, is agony. Then take this treacherous sense of mine

Which dooms me still to smart;
Which pleasure can to pain refine,

To pain new pangs impart,
O haste to shed the sovereign balm,

My shatter'd nerves new string;
And for my guest serenely calm,

The nymph Indifference bring!
At her approach, see Hope, see Fear,

See Expectation fly!
And Disappointment in the rear,

That blasts the promised joy!

ROBERT LOWTH. 17101787. Ronart Lowta, a distinguished prelate in the English church, in the year 1710. He was educated at Winchester School, and at and after leaving the university he entered into the church, in whic by regular gradations, till he became, in 1777, Bishop of London. H 1787, in the seventy-seventh year of his age.

The writings by which Bishop Lowth is most known, are, « A SI duction to English Grammar," for many years a text-book in the sch fallenges in England and in this country; his « Translation of the leigh, with a large body of valuable notes; and his Lectures or

1999 educated," saya Bishop Lowth, in the University of Oxford. I enjoyed all bapa, beraa puhliz and private, which that famous seat of learning so largely afforda. I yen la that illustrious society, in a well-regulated course of useful discipline and studle deprecable and improving commerce of gentlemen and of scholars; In a Boclety whe withart envy, acubition without jealousy, contention without animosity, Incited Indust kad pulus; whare a liberal pursuit of knowledge, and a genuine freedom of thought retouraged, and pushed forward by example, by commendation, and by authority, I

* ansphere that the HOOKERS, the CHILLINGWORTHS, and the LOCKEN had bres whese benevolence and bumanity were as extensive as their vaak genius and compreh

With reference to this encomium of Lowth upon his Alma Mater, Gibbon, the historia Woning baditul remark: "The expression of gratitude is a virtue and a pleasure: 1 wi delight to cherish and celebrate the memory of its parents, and THE TEACHERS ON

1 See Midsummer Night's Dream.

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The tear which Pity taught to flow,

The eye shall then disown;
The heart that melts for others' woe,

Shall then scarce feel its own:

The wounds which now each moment bleed,

Each moment then shall close;
And tranquil days shall still succeed

To nights of calm repose.

O Fairy Elf! but grant me this,

This one kind comfort send,
And so may never-fading bliss

Thy flowery paths attend!

So may the glow-worm's glimmering light

Thy tiny footsteps lead
To some new region of delight,

Unknown to mortal tread!

And be thy acorn goblet fill'd

With heaven's ambrosial dew,
From sweetest, freshest flowers distil) d,

That shed fresh sweets ibr you!

And what of life remains for me,

I'll pass in sober ease;
Half-pleased, contented will I be,

Content but half to please.

ROBERT LOWTH. 1710—1787.

Robert Lowth, a distinguished prelate in the English church, was born in the year 1710. He was educated at Winchester School, and at Oxford,1 and after leaving the university he entered into the church, in which he rose by regular gradations, till he became, in 1777, Bishop of London. He died in 1787, in the seventy-seventh year of his age.

The writings by which Bishop Lowth is most known, are, "A Short Introduction to English Grammar," for many years a text-book in the schools and folleges in England and in this country; his "Translation of the Prophet Isaiah," with a large body of valuable notes; and his "Lectures on the Poe

l "I wai educated," Bays Bishop Lowth, "In the University of Oxford. I enjoyed all the advantages, both public and private, which that famous scat of learning so largely affords. I spent many years in that illustrious society, In a well-regulated course of useful discipline and studies, and in the agreeable and improving commerce of gentlemen and of scholars; m a society where emulation without envy, ambiUon without Jealousy, contenuon without animosity, Incited industry and awakened genius; where a liberal pursuit of knowledge, and a genuine freedom of thought, were raised, encouraged, and pushed forward by example, by cotnmcndaUon, and by authority. I breathed the same atmosphere that the Hookers, the Chillixowoeths, and the Lockba bad breathed before whose benevolence and humanity were as extensive as their vast genius and comprehensive know ledge."

With reference to this encomium of Lowth upon his Alma Mater, Gibbon, the historian, makes tm. foliowinn beautiful remark: "The expression or gratitude Is a virtue and a pleasure: a liberal mind will delight to cherish and celebrate the memory of Its parents; and Ihx Teachexs or sclxacs A»a rna raaxxts or The Mi.vd."

try of tlie Hebrews." The latter is a work which unites a depth of learning to a discriminating criticism and a refined taste, in a very unusual degree; anil while it is of inestimable value to the professed Biblical student, it affords equal pleasure and instruction to the pcncral reader. From the first Lecture we extract the following just and tasteful remarks, upon

PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY COMPARED AS SOURCES OF PLEASURE AND INSTRUCTION.

Poetry is commonly understood to have two objects in view, namely, advantage and pleasure, or rather a union of both. I wish tnose who have furnished us with this definition had rather proposed utility as its ultimate object, and pleasure as the means by which that end may be effectually accomplished. The philosopher and the poet, indeed, seem principally to differ in the means by which they pursue the same end. Each sustains the character of a preceptor, which the one is thought best to support, if he teach with accuracy, with subtlety, and with perspicuity; the other with splendor, harmony, and elegance. The one makes his appeal to reason only, independent of the passions; the other addresses the reason in such a manner as even to engage the passions on his side. The one proceeds to virtue and truth by the nearest and most compendious ways; the other leads to the same point through certain deflections and deviations, by a winding but pleasanter path. It is the part of the former so to describe and explain these objects, that we must necessarily become acquainted with them; it is the part of the latter so to dress and adorn them, that of our own accord we must love and embrace them.

I therefore lay it down as a fundamental maxim, that Poetry is useful,1 chiefly because it is agreeable; and should I, as we are apt to do, attribute too much to my favorite occupation, I trust Philosophy will forgive me when I add, that the writings of the poet are more useful than those of the philosopher, inasmuch as they are more agreeable. To illustrate this position by a wellknown example :—Who can believe that even the most tasteless could peruse the writings on agriculture, either of the learned Varro or of Columella, an author by no means deficient in ele

1 I cannot but Insert here the following very fine remarks of Leigh Runt on the Utility of Poetry. "No man recognises the worth of utility more than the poet; he only desires that the meaning of the term may not come short of Its greatness, and exclude the noblest necessities of his fellow-creature*. He Is quite as much pleased, for Instance, with the facilities for rapid conveyance aflbrded him by the railroad, as the dullest connner of Its advantages to that single Idea, or as the greatest twa-ldead man who varies that single idea with hugging himself on his 'buttons' or his good dinner. But he sees also the beauty of the country through which lie passes, of the towns, of the heavens, of the steam-engine Itself, thundering and fuming along like a magic horse; of the directions that are corrylng. perhaps, half the passengers on their Journey, nny, of those or the great two-ldcod man; and, Dcyond all this, he discerns the Incalculable amount of good, and knowledge, and refinement, ana mutunl consideration, which this wonderful tnvenuon Is fitted to circulate over the globe, perhaps to Ihedlsutaiemcnt of war Itscb; and certainly to the ulfluslon of millions of enjoyment-.."

gance, with the same pleasure and attention as that most delightful and most perfect work, the Georgics of Virgil 1 a work in which he has equalled the most respectable writers in the solidity of his matter, and has greatly excelled the most elegant in the incredible harmony of his numbers.

But if it be manifest, even in authors who directly profess improvement and advantage, that those will most efficaciously instruct who afford most entertainment; the same will be still more apparent in those who, dissembling the intention of instruction, exhibit only the blandishments of pleasure; and while they treat of the most important things, of all the principles of moral action, all the offices of life, yet laying aside the severity of the preceptor, adduce at once all the decorations of elegance, and all the attractions of amusement: who display, as in a picture, the actions, the manners, the pursuits and passions of men; and by the force of imitation and fancy, by the harmony of numbers, by the taste and variety of imagery, captivate the affections of the reader, and imperceptibly, or perhaps reluctantly, impel him to the pursuit of virtue. Such is the real purpose of heroic poetry; such is the noble effect produced by the perusal of Homer And who so thoughtless, or so callous, as not to feel incredible pleasure in that most agreeable occupation? Who is not moved, astonished, enraptured, by the inspiration of that most sublime genius? Who so inanimate as not to see, not to feel inscribed, or as it wt re imprinted upon his heart, his most excellent maxims concerning human life and manners? From philosophy a few cold precepts may be deduced; in history, some dull and spiritless examples of manners may be found: here we have the energetic voice of Virtue herself, here we behold her animated form. Poetry addresses her precepts not to the reason alone; she calls the passions to her aid: she not only exhibits examples, but infixes them in the mind. She softens the wax with her peculiar ardor, and renders it more plastic to the artist's hand. Thus does Horace most truly and most justly apply this commendation to the poets

What's fair, and false, and right, these bards describe,
Better and plainer than the Stoic tribe:—

Plainer, or more completely, because they do not perplex then disciples with the dry detail of parts and definitions, but so per fectly and so accurately delineate, by examples of every kind, the forms of the human passions and habits, the principles of social and civilized life, that he who from the schools of philosophy should turn to the representations of Homer, would feel himself transported from a narrow and intricate path to an extensive and flourishing field :—Better, because the poet teaches not by maximt and precepts, and in the dull sententious form; but by tin harmony of verse, by the beauty of imagery, by the ingenuity of the fable, by the exactness of imitation, he allures and interests the mind of the reader, he fashions it to habits of virtue, and in a manner informs it with the spirit of integrity itself.

But if from the Heroic we turn to the Tragic Muse, to which Aristotle indeed assigns the preference, because of the true and perfect imitation, we shall yet more clearly evince the superiorilj of poetry over philosophy, on the principle of its being more agreeable. Tragedy is, in truth, no other than philosophy introduced upon the stage, retaining all its natural properties, remitting nothing of its native gravity, but assisted and embellished by other favoring circumstances. What point, for instance, of moral discipline have the tragic writers of Greece left untouched or unadorned 1 What duty of life, what principle of political economy, what motive or precept for the government of the passions, what commendation of virtue is there, which they have not treated of with fulness, variety, and learning? The moral of ^Eschylus (not only a poet, but a Pythagorean) will ever be admired. Nor were Sophocles and Euripides less illustrious for the reputation of wisdom; the latter of whom was the disciple of Socrates and Anaxagoras, and was known among his friends by the title of the dramatic philosopher. In these authors, surely, the allurements of poetry afforded some accession to the empire of philosophy: nor indeed has any man arrived at the summit of poetic fame, who did not previously lay the foundation of his art in true philosophy.

But there are other species of poetry which also deserve to partake in the commendation; and first the Ode,

"With thoughts that breathe, and words that bum;"

which, though in some respects inferior to what are called the higher species of poetry, yields to none in force, ardor, and sometimes even in dignity and solemnity. Its amazing power in directing the passions, in forming the manners, in maintaining civil life, and particularly in exciting and cherishing that generous elevation of sentiment on which the very existence of public virtue seems to depend, will be sufficiently apparent by only contemplating those monuments of genius which Greece has bequeathed to posterity. If we examine the poems of Pindar, how exquisite must have been the pleasure, how vivid the sensation to the Greek, whose ordinary amusement it was to sing, or hear them sung! For, this kind of entertainment was not confined to persons of taste and learning, but had grown into general use. When lie heard his gods, his heroes, his ancestors received into the number of the gods, celebrated in a manner so glorious, so divine, would not his bosom glow with the desire of fame, with the most fervid emulation of virtue, with a patriotism, immoderate perhaps.

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