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So let the same all-bounteous gracious hand, Around my path, HEAVEN's choicest gifts command.

If I am doom'd the marriage chain to wear, Kind HEAVEN, oh! answer this my fervent prayer;

That he, whom I am fated to obey,
May kindly govern with a gentle sway.
His person healthy, with the graces join'd;
A beauteous emblem of a virtuous mind:
May his good sense improve my best of thoughts,
His soft good nature smile on all my faults.
May every virtue his fond bosom know,
And vice all shun him as its greatest foe;
Still let me find, possess'd by the dear youth,
The best good manners, and sincerest truth:
Unblemish'd in his honour and his fame,
And let his actions merit his good name.
Well read in science and the ways of men,
But not of knowledge ignorantly vain.
Whate'er a tender woman ought to know
Of things sublime, or lesser things below;
My kind preceptor may he ever prove,
And make me wise by sympathy and love!
I wish his fortune easy, but not great,
For troubles always on the wealthy wait;
And life's so very short, I would not spare
The smallest part for worldly anxious care.
If I have children,t let them all be thine!
And may thy grace their infant hearts refine :
Their welfare, let my youthful hours engage-
Their growing virtues well support my age.
"But when their cherub lips have learnt to
claim

A mother's ear, by that endearing name;
Soon as the playful innocents can prove
A tear of pity, or a smile of love,

Or con their marmuring tasks beneath my care,
Or lisp with holy look their evening prayer:"
Then let my bosom taste seraphic joy,
And all parental bliss beneath the sky.
Be this my portion, if I'm made a wife,
Or keep me happy in a single life;
Myself to Thee I cheerfully resign,
Let me be nothing, or let me be Thine.
When life is o'er, my spirit soar away
To praise the LORD in bright eternal day.
Lancaster, Sept. 8, 1824. ELIZABETH.

MOWBRAY'S CASTLE.‡

THE full moon shone on the foliag'd trees,
Which gently wav'd in the ev'ning breeze;
And the distant hills caught her yellow light,
As rising she chas'd the darkness of night.
Oh! bright and fair was her lovely beam;
And it left a trace like some sweet dream;
For the soul was calm in that peaceful hour,
And passion was lull'd by her soft'ning power;
Which so mildly stole on my languid heart,
That I fondly sigh'd from the scene to part.
All around was still ;-but the solemn bell,
From its gothic tower, echo'd thro' the dell;
Where proudly stood, in the days of yore,
A mighty pile which is seen no more:
And nought is left to tell of its fame;
And all that is known is the lofty name

* Prov. xxxi. 10 to 31. xviii. 22. & xix. 14. + Psalm cxxvii. 3, 4, 5. cxxviii. 3.

Which once reared its lofty battlements at the town of Thirsk, Yorkshire, but of which no vestige remains at the present day. No. 71.-VOL. VI.

Of the warrior chief who the fortress own'd.
Now all is mute, and the grassy mound
Abides on that spot where shining shield,
And glitt'ring spear, gleam'd o'er the field;
And beneath the ground the sounding cell
Gives a mock response to time's dread knell.
Great Mowbray's ghost there stalks o'er the
site

Of his ruin'd towers, by the misty light
Which Luna casts on the fading spoils :
Where time with unceasing ardour toils,
To crush what remains of the buried tower,
And leave but its name to speak of its power.
G. Y. HARRISON.

STANZAS

WRITTEN IN THIRSK CHURCHYARD, YORKSHIRE, NOVEMBER, 1823.

OH! 'tis sweet at the midnight hour,

Where that holy fane erects its head, When clouds beneath the wan moon low'r, To muse o'er the graves of the dead. When to break the silence, the wind Sweeps its way o'er the trembling trees; And every lone object combin'd,

Is in unison with the breeze.

When the darkness of night, dispell'd,

Flies before meek Cynthia's beams; And the clouds which her light withheld, Are departed like visions or dreams. Oh! then 'tis solemn to gaze awhile

Through the gothic window's gloom, And view those arches which skirt the aisle, Where is plac'd the dead man's tomb.

There the dormant tongue forgets to speak, And the eye hath lost its fire;

And in these dark dwellings how vain to seek
For those we were wont to admire.

Yes,-love itself is excluded here;
And the remnants of beauty left,

Though own'd by the "fairest of the fair,"
Is here of its brightness berest.
Thirsk, June 18, 1824.

G. Y. HARRISON.

DESCRIPTION OF A TROPICAL
TEMPEST.

THE burning sun had scarce retir'd from sight,
And his emblazoning beams reflected back
Thro' the clear air, kept still aloof the night,
The close and constant follower of his track.

An awful stillness held its dismal empire,
Portending the inevitable doom:

No moving creature, save the flitting vampire,
Met the tired eye; but all around was gloom.
The moon arose, and with it rose a cloud;

The cloud grew thicker as the moon shone stronger,

Covering the earth with its dark hideous shroud,
Hiding the light till it was seen no longer.
Dismal and gloomy was the covering sky,
And silent expectation all below:
The glaring lightnings overpowering fly,
Changing the darkness to a lurid glow.
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Then fell at once the water deep and flowing, Like a new deluge drowning all beneath; The widening rivers every moment growing Deeper and deeper, sweeping all to death. The thunder then commenc'd its heavy rattling, Shaking the earth to her unmoving centre; The furious winds wildly in air embattling,

Ev'n in the firmest mind caus'd fear to enter. Then crush'd the whirlpool in its baneful raging, All which the rushing water swept before it: Then the wild whirlwind in its road engaging With the vast oak, loosen'd, and upward bore it;

Its huge limbs falling with th' increasing water, Made desolation fierce yet more destructive: All, all were mix'd in one promiscuous slaughter,

The sweeping ruin met with nought obstructive.

The boisterous billows rise like heaving mountains,

Heaps pil'd on heaps to heaven itself they

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Had broke their bounds, and heaven poured down its store.

Then the black rain and billows green full meeting,

Rush'd with dread fury 'gainst each other proudly;

The splashing waves dash'd back gave thus their greeting,

While the fell whirlpool yawn'd beneath them loudly:

Then down it sucked the wreck of this dire ruin,

Yawning a hell, like Etna's mountain hollow; Lo! how they come, each other swift pursuing, Trees, reptiles, birds, and beasts all quickly follow.

The battered vessel, too, half wrecked, half sinking,

The frighted mariner steers towards the shore

He meets the whirlpool unprepar'd, unthinking, Sinks in its vortex, and is seen no more.

While high aloft sits He who rules the storm, O'erwhelming at each turn men's hearts with wonder,

The lightning's flash around bis unknown form, His rumbling chariot-wheels resound in thunder.

Thinkst thou 'tis night? 'Tis artificial day; The flashing of his glance the gloom disperses;

That roaring, which produces such dismay,
Is; to the storm, the order he rehearses.
Oh! the loud peal so awfully resounding!

Lo! how the lightning leaves its liquid fire! Like a wreck'd ship amid the breakers grounding,

Like conflagrations which to heaven aspire. The waters come again with fury doubled, Clothing the dismal heaven with blacker mourning,

The ocean, earth, and lofty sky were troubled, The storm with rage relentless was returning.

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As though it feared its power would soon expire.

How the forked lightning pierces through the gloom!

Mix'd with the rain which half its power destroys,

Fire-which here only meets its proper doom, Seas-which alone such dreadful fire annoys. Darkness—whose gloom is only thus dispell'd, Thunder--whose rumbling is alone surpass'd By the loud roaring deluge which now held Its baneful empire as it were its last.

Its fury grows more powerful, its noise loader, It gleams more dreadful, and the waters grow Like meeting oceans higher, and yet prouder, Threatening to drown for ever all below.

Hope enters now the torrents cease their pouring,

The distant lightning is scarce seen to gleam, The echoing thunders stay their doleful roaring, The moon and stars begin once more to beam. The waters sink, the land again appears, The dread tempestuous wind is heard no

more;

Man in his quiet banishes his fears,

And holds his kingly station as before. But oh! the ruin! Changed is beauteous nature, From a delightful landscape to a scene, As wild as erst th' omnipotent Creator

Bade the rude chaos be as this had been.

A barren wild alone was now perceived,

No house, no hut, no tree, no shrub, no flower;

Grateful for life, yet man was deeply grieved To find his hopes all blasted in an hour.

Why grieve, weak man?-He who this night unfurl'd

The banner of his wrath destroying all,
Can in a moment recreate thy world,

Can in a moment raise thee from thy fall.
W.

THE VANITY OF EARTHLY PURSUITS. BY JOHANNIS JUVENIS.

HAST thou e'er seen the rising day,

The glowing landscape's glist'ning dew, The drooping lily's virgin ray,

The soft sweet rose-bud's blooming hue? Hast thou e'er watch'd the zephyr's play, Or breath'd the spicy air of morn, And at the bow'ry nook to stay,

To watch the gently waving corn?

Hast thou e'er felt the soothing charm Of purling streams meandering by, And rose thy soul in high alarm,

At echo's sending sigh for sigh?

And didst thou hear the nestling's song,
The gloomy Philomela's lay,
The merry blackbird chirping long,
With redbreast's note, from spray to spray?

And has thy mind, in pensive mood,

Wander'd, to solitude's lone home, And then in strange amazement stood To watch the snails or beetles roam ?

Close by beheld, in nature's arms,

Majestic cliffs, of cloud-cap'd height;
The world's known bulwarks of alarms,
Dazzling the unaccustom'd sight:
In solemn quiet, has thy heart,

Beneath the thickly-studded sky,
With fix'd attention view'd apart
The suns that glitter to the eye?
And in the centre of the wood,

Where nature reigns by man unseen,
Before where mortals seldom stood,
Thy limbs have press'd the mossy green?
In midnight's hour, when all was still,
Watching the path by Cynthia trod,
Hast thou not felt thy bosom thrill,
While tracing nature up to God?
And then, with nature all alone,

Beheld the fork'd and vivid light,
And heard her heave her horrid groan,
In ling'ring murmurs through the night?

Or dared to climb the rocky hill,

There pause, and turn to gaze around, With fragrant sweets thy soul to fill,

To heal its deep and gloomy wound?
And has the sun-beams' cheering heat,
That spreads, upon thy long-lov'd hills,
Enamell'd carpets for thy feet,

And gilded o'er the cheerful rills?
E'er rapt thy soul in vision's fire,
And led thee quite among the spheres,
To teach thy soul to love the lyre,
To charm thy hope and kill thy cares?

And then with eager flying pace,

The phantom, honour, hast thou sought, Engag'd in the advent❜rous race,

And with the noblest champions fought? But still insatiate, hast thou fled

To learning's spring, where laurels grow, Tasted the stream, by genius led,

And felt its animating glow?

Thy soul grown big with panting hope,
In every battle hast thou dared,
And with the stoutest foes to cope,
Have all beheld thy helmet reared?

And has the eye of envy seen

Thy name with marks of triumph grac'd,
Beheld thy laurels fresh and green,

And view'd on high thy station plac'd?
Then with a fiend-like smile of death,
(As lightnings blast the tow'ring pine,)
Has she drawn quick her vengeful breath,
And burst it to impregnate thine?

And at that smile did glory die,

Thy laurels, wither'd, strew the ground, And all that's left, that chilling sigh, "Ah! honour is an empty sound!"

Then, sick'ning in the road of fame,
Thy feet the way of life have trod;
And was that path to thee the same,

Here doom'd to feel the smarting rod ?

Yes, thou hadst friends, but they are fled!
And thou didst watch the quiv'ring breath,
Just as they enter'd with the dead,

Just as they cross'd the vale of death!
And when the clay its mate had lost,
Thy silent grief has wept amain!
And thy full soul with anguish toss'd,
Call'd the lov'd spirit back again.

Dry up those tears, O turn and live!
The road to heaven invites thy love,
Here, peace and solid joy 'twill give,
And then eternal fame above.

There streams divine, effulgent light,
Shall quite o'erpower thy ravish'd soul;
Thy day shall never know a night,

And He shall ever fill the whole.

And does thy spirit ask the end

Of disappointment's constant reign?
Although the thought thy heart may rend,
O listen, and I'll then refrain.

An eye unseen, a hand unknown,
Yes, wand'rer in life's winding way;
God-Providence, by these has shewn
The path to everlasting day.

Devon, June 23, 1824.

A PROMISE.

How long wilt thou doubt me, my love,-
When wilt thou assertions believe,-
How can I undoubtedly prove

I feel not inclin'd to deceive?

Till the sun shall forget to revive

The produce of this little sphere;
Till the moon shall forget she's to shine,
And the stars o'er our earth to appear;

Till the sea shall be dried to its source,

And the clouds shall omit to give rain;
Till the Nile shall depart from its course,
And vessels sail over the plain;

Till mountains shall join in the dance,
And men shall as mountains become;
Till England be joined to France,

And Scotland and Wales be as one;
Till roses from thistles shall spring,
And filberts on apple-trees grow;
Till owls shall as nightingales sing,

And the winds of the north cease to blow;

Till nature shall thus change ber place,

And heaven this earth cease to bless ;False-Horatio will ne'er prove to Ann, Nor love her one tittle the less.

Birmingham, September, 1824.

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REVIEW.-Calvinism and Arminianism compared in their Principles and Tendency; or, the Doctrines of General Redemption, as held by the Members of the Church of England, and by the early Dutch Arminians, exhibited in their Scriptural Evidence, and in their Connexion with the Civil and Religious Liberties of Mankind. By James Nichols. 8vo. pp. 999. London, Longman & Co. 1824.

THIS is one of the many books, whose titles are not sufficiently descriptive of their contents. Few readers would imagine, from the title-page, that this voluminous work contains an account of the rise and early progress of Arminianism in Holland, but more particularly in Great Britain; that, in detail, it is more historical than theological, and less metaphysical than political; or that its allusions to the modern history of Calvinism and Arminianism, are studiously few and unfrequent. But leaving all further animadversion upon this point, we proceed to afford our readers an opportunity of forming their own estimate of a work, which, though in our eyes not perfectly immaculate or impartial, must, in several respects, be considered one of the most important that has lately been published.

In an introduction of 168 closelyprinted pages, illustrated with numerous notes, the author has given a view of the doctrinal system of Arminius, of whose benign principles he has undertaken the defence, on the grounds of their blessed effects; the design of his work, a second volume of which is promised; a long and interesting description of the kind of Puritans who united with the republicans to destroy church and state in the time of Charles the First; a syllabus of the principal subjects discussed in the text and in the notes; remarks on some of those writers whose productions he has quoted, and among whom the late Rev. Thomas Scott has obtained a very prominent station: and a conclusion, which embraces a concise history of Mr. Nichols, and from which it appears, that in consequence of early and conscientious scruples" respecting ceremonial and minute matters," he refrained from entering into holy orders, among the Episcopalians, and ultimately became a printer.

In answer to the objection, which he might be confident would be urged, "that his work assumed too polemical a character to be generally acceptable," he observes," Those who are best acquainted with me, know, that controversy is not the element in which I delight. The rise of Arminianism, however, in the Church of England, and its subsequent obligations to that of Holland, could not be elucidated without controverting many of the reproachful and untrue accounts of its most bitter adversaries. Since, therefore, this page of English ecclesiastical history required the aid of one to whom Dutch affairs, and the constitution of the different states which composed that republic, were familiar,-and my studies, especially in my youthful days, having been turned much in that direction,-I resolved to take this burden upon myself; and, amidst numerous impediments, I have been enabled, by the kindness of heaven, to finish the first volume of my arduous undertaking. As its multifarious contents will require, from all parties, a long time for digestion, and as the second volume will, like this, consist at least of 1000 closely-printed pages; the latter, (also in two parts,) must not be expected till I have completed the publication of the Works of Arminius.”

To us it has always been a subject both of wonder and regret, that, while the Calvinists constantly refer to several of the doctrines maintained by them, which undoubtedly identify themselves with the Christianity of the Bible, many of the reputed Arminians, in modern days, especially those of the high-church party, instead of asserting and demonstrating the equally evangelical principles of Arminius, abandon them at the outset, and are contented with an exposition of bare morality, which ought never to be dignified with the name of THEOLOGY.

Mr. Nichols is evidently too well acquainted with the foundation of Arminianism, and with the hallowing tendency of its doctrines, to adopt such an injudicious course. In his brief introductory view of this system, he endeavours to shew its superiority to its rival, in asserting the uniform energy of grace divine, which possesses the same potency over the unholy passions and corrupt affections of the human heart,

in the work of sanctification, as it does in that of conversion. The Calvinists, on the contrary, with an inconsistency seldom equalled, contend for the irresistibility of the grace of God in its early operations; but when those operations have had a very limited and partial effect on the heart of man, they receive a check from "in-bred corruptions," become nearly inert and neutralized, and divine grace at length, according to their scheme, ceases to be irresistible!

it is fair to the character of Arminius, and useful to the interests of religious truth, to revert to his own writings, as the only source from which we ought to derive information concerning the Arminian scheme. And by doing so it may be discovered, that genuine unadulterated Arminianism is not that great and dangerous heresy which among a certain class of Christians it is too often represented less scriptural and less logical than Calvinism, to be; and that though it may still be thought yet it does not deserve to be reprobated as wholly inimical to the grace and glory of the gospel.

"Having made these preliminary remarks, we shall now endeavour to give a short and Among several original expositions correct view of Arminianism in the proper of the "highly evangelical principles sense of that term.-Arminianism is to be conof Arminius," the author has quot- sidered as a separation from Calvinism, with ed one from the pen of a Calvinist, regard to the doctrines of unconditional elecwhich he justly designates as "one necessarily resulting from these. The Calvintion, particular redemption, and other points of the most impartial, correct, mode-ists hold, that God had elected a certain porrate, and comprehensive that has been tion of the human race to eternal life, passing published in the English language, by the rest, or rather dooming them to everand one that contains a manly refuta- lasting destruction; that God's election protion of the errors with which that sys-ciples and character of those whom he had ceeded upon no prescience of the moral printem has been falsely charged." He thus predestinated, but originated solely in the then gives the following extract from motions of his free and sovereign mercy; that the article" ARMINIANISM" in BREW- Christ died for the elect only, and therefore, STER'S Edinburgh Encyclopædia:that the merits of his death can avail for the salvation of none but them; and that they are "Arminianism, strictly speaking, is that constrained by the irresistible power of divine system of religious doctrine which was taught grace to accept of him as their Saviour.-To by Arminius, professor of divinity in the uni- this doctrine, that of Arminius and his legitiversity of Leyden. If, therefore, we would mate followers stands opposed: They do not learn precisely what Arminianism is, we must deny an election; but they deny that it is abhave recourse to those writings in which that solute and unconditional. They argue, that divine himself has stated and expounded his an election of this kind is inconsistent with the peculiar tenets. This, however, will by no character of God, that it destroys the liberty means give us an accurate idea of that which, of the human will, that it contradicts the lansince his time, has been usually denominated guage of scripture, and that it tends to encouArminianism. On examination, it will be rage a careless and licentious practice in those found, that in many important particulars, by whom it is believed. They maintain, that those who have called themselves Arminians, God has elected those only who, according, or have been accounted such by others, differ not to his decree, but to his foreknowledge, and in as widely from the nominal head and founder the exercise of their natural powers of selfof their sect, as he himself did from Calvin determination, acting under the influence of and other doctors of Geneva. There are, in his grace, would possess that faith and holideed, certain points, with regard to which he ness to which salvation is annexed in the goshas been strictly and uniformly followed by pel scheme. And those who are not elected almost all his pretended adherents; but there are allowed to perish, not because they were are others of equal or of greater importance, not elected, but merely and solely in consedogmatically insisted on by them, to which he quence of their infidelity and disobedience; unquestionably never gave his sanction, and on account, indeed, of which infidelity and even appears to have been decidedly hostile. disobedience being foreseen by God, their Such a distinction, obvious as it must be to election did not take place. They hold, that every attentive reader, has yet been generally Christ died for all men, in the literal and unso far overlooked, that the memory of Armi-restricted sense of that phrase; that his atonenius is frequently loaded with imputations the most unreasonable and unjust. He is accused by the ignorant and the prejudiced, of introducing corruptions into the Christian church, which he probably never thought of, and which certainly have no place in his works. And all the odium which his followers have from time to time incurred by their varied and increasing heterodoxy, has been absurdly reflected upon him, as if he could be responsible for every error that may be sent abroad under the sanction of his name. Whatever be the number or the species of these errors, and in whatever way they may be associated with his principles,

ment is able, both from its own merit, and from the intention of him who appointed it, to expiate the guilt of every individual; that every individual is invited to partake of the benefits which it has procured; that the grace of God is offered to make the will comply with this invitation, but that this grace may be resisted and rendered ineffectual by the sin ner's perversity. Whether true believers necessarily persevered, or whether they might fall from their faith, and forfeit their state of grace, was a question which Arminius left unresolved, but which was soon determined by his followers in this additional proposition, that

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