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The ideas of Christian theology are too simple for eloquence, too sacred for fiction, and too majestic for ornament." But that indefinite excellence in oratory for which the ears of Cicero thirsted, haunts alike the painter, the poet, and the sculptor. It is only by ascending to the sublimest themes that we obtain a glimpse of the magnificent scenery of the new world of Imagination. So Raphael meditated upon the holiest and most glorious visions of the Bible; and Milton went out of his own century into the gardens of Paradise; and Phidias called from the marble a statute which enchanted the Grecian world. The ideas of Christian Theology may be too sacred for fiction; but the wisdom of our Lord often flowed into Parables; they may be too majestic for ornament; but our literature possesses Paradise Regained. "The employments of pious meditation," observes the critic, "are Faith, Thanksgiving, Repentance, and Supplication." And in these may be found the purest elements of poetry. Faith, if it were invariably uniform, might still be decorated by the fancy, as a scene of nature is arrayed by the painter under the varying aspects of shade and sunshine. Nor can Thanksgiving be justly confined to "a few modes," since every object of our daily contemplation ought to be an incentive to gratitude; and every Christian will confess the occasions for thanksgiving to equal the moments of his existence.

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It has been remarked by an American writer, whose opinions are sometimes not less admirable than his eloquence, that religion surpasses every other principle in giving freedom and variety to the human intellect; recognising in every faculty the workmanship of God, and assigning to each its appropriate sphere of agency. Religion, he justly regards, as of all principles, the most fruitful, mul

VOL. II.

2 B

tiform, and unlimited; possessing both the fertility and the munificence of nature. Genius rises in renewed radiance from the hallowing waters of Jordan. "But," resumes Johnson, "the topics of devotion are few, and being few, are universally known; but few as they are, they can be made no more, they can receive no grace from novelty of sentiment, and very little from novelty of expression." But the fountains of human feeling are not so soon exhausted; and every one who is familiar with the treasures of English theology, will be enabled to refute the assertion of Johnson. Our topics of devotion may be numbered by our necessities; and he, at least, who, through various obstacles, and many sufferings, and griping penury, had climbed into public notice by the energy of his character and the favour of Providence, ought surely to have reflected upon his own obligations, and to have acknowledged that his own topics of devotion could never be few. Gratitude for mercies, resignation under chastisement, supplication for forgiveness, are only variations of the same great duty. To the fancy of the poet, above all, nothing can be entirely exhausted of its beauty and life; by the rays of his own invention he draws forth new colours and lustre. Homer beheld the moonshine upon the shield of Achilles, and Sidney watched her going astray through the sky, and Virgil lighted up with her beams the face of the little Iulus in the tumultuous streets of Troy; and Landor beheld her reflection upon the wet sand of the sea-shore, like the shadow from "jasper column half upreared;" yet Wordsworth, in one of his latest poems, has presented her under a different aspect, and shown us that the springs of poetry can only be dried up with the heart of man. But the most beautiful refutation of Johnson's theory has been afforded by the Christian Year of

Mr. Keble, in which every day of the Christian's life furnishes a theme to the poet. The Hymns of Heber, if enlarged to the original outline, might have been united with a volume which breathes the ardour of Ken, without his conceits, and the meekness of Herbert, without his harshness; which illustrates the saying of Crashaw, that the wounded is the wounding heart, and makes the reader feel, because the author has felt before him.

ADDITIONAL NOTES.

PAGE 5.

THE following interesting letter respecting Milton's alleged Rustication, recently appeared in the Athenæum::

"Sir,-On looking lately into the first volume of Milton's Select Prose Works, edited by my friend Mr. St. John, I noticed that the biographers of the poet are not agreed as to the fact of his Rustication from the University. Among those who maintain the affirmative, or admit it, are Dr. Johnson, the Rev. J. Mitford, and Sir Egerton Bridges. Turning to Johnson's Life of Milton, I found the charge and the evidence on which it rests stated and commented on in the following terms: It seems plain, from his own verses to Diodati, that he had incurred Rustication (a temporary dismission into the country) with, perhaps, the loss of a term:

Me tenet urbs refluâ quam Tamesis alluit undâ,
Meque nec invitum patria dulcis habet.

Jam nec arundiferum mihi cura revisere Camum,

Nec dudum vetiti me Laris angit amor.

Si sit hoc exilium patrios adiisse penates,

Et vacuum curis otia grata sequi,

Non ego vel profugi nomen, sortemve recuso,

Lætus et exilii conditione fruor.

I cannot find any meaning, but this, which even kindness and reverence can give the term vetiti Laris,-a habitation from which he is excluded,-or how exile can be otherwise interpreted.' Now it is quite clear to me that if this be the only evidence that can be adduced in support of the allegation, it must fall to the ground. In the first place, the Doctor's translation of the phrase vetiti Laris is not strictly correct;

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