Hell's force? in vain her furies hell shall gather.

His servants, kinsmen, or his children rather?

His child (if good) shall judge; if bad, shall curse his father.

His life? that brings him to his end, and leaves him.
His end? that leaves him to begin his wo.

His goods? what good in that which so deceives him?
His gods of wood? their feet, alas! are slow
To go to help, which must be help'd to go.
Honour, great worth? ah! little worth they be
Unto their owners. Wit? that makes him see

He wanted wit, who thought he had it wanting thee.

In another place, repentance and faith are thus described:

She in an arbour sate

Of thorny brier, weeping her cursed state,
And her before a hasty river fled,

Which her blind eyes with faithful penance fed,
And all about the grass with tears hung down its head.

Her eyes, though blind abroad, at home kept fast,
Inwards they turn'd and look'd into her head,

At which she often started as aghast,

To see so fearful spectacles of dread;

And with one hand her breast she martyred,

Wounding her heart the same to mortify;

The other a fair damsel† held her by,

Which if but once let go, she ‡ sunk immediately.

In another place is shewn the sufficiency of Christ,

and impotency in man.

What hath man done, that man shall not undo,

Since God to him is grown so near akin?

Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe.
Has he lost all? he all again shall win.
Is sin his master? he shall master sin.
Too hardy soul with sin the field to try,
The only way to conquer was to fly;

But thus long death hath lived, and now death's self shall die.

To blind men, sight; and to the needy, wealth;

A pleasure without loss; a treasure without stealth.

Despair, Presumption, Vain-glory, &c. &c. are personified in different parts of the poem; but the preceding and following stanzas will be sufficient to give the reader an idea of it; and therefore it would be unnecessary to quote all the passages to which Mr Hervey had referred.

Ere long they came near to a baleful bower,*
Much like the mouth of that infernal cave,
Which gaping stood all comers to devour,
Dark, doleful, dreary, like a greedy grave
That still for carrion-carcasses doth crave.
The ground no herbs but venomous did bear,
Nor ragged trees did leaf, but every-where

Dead bones and skulls were cast, and bodies hanged were.

Upon the roof the bird of sorrow sat,

Keeping back joyful day with her sad note,
And through the shady air the fluttering bat
Did wave her leathern sails, and blindly float;
While with her wings the fatal screech-owl smote
The unblessed house: there on a craggy stone

*

CELENO hung, and made a direful moan,

And all about the murder'd ghosts did shriek and groan.

Like cloudy moon-shine in some shadowy grove,
Such was the light in which DESPAIR did dwell;
But he himself with night for darkness strove,
His black uncombed locks dishevell'd fell
About his face; through which as brands of hell
Sunk in his skull, his staring eyes did glow,
Which made him deadly look: their glimpse did show
Like cockatrice's eyes, that sparks of poison throw.

Now he would dream that he from heaven fell,
And then would snatch the air, afraid to fall;

And now he thought he sinking was to hell,

And then would grasp the earth; and now his stall
To him seem'd hell, and then he out would crawl:

And ever as he crept would squint aside,

Lest he should be by fiends from hell espied,

And forced, alas! in chains for ever to abide.

*The habitation of Despair described.

+ One of the Harpies.

Insulæ Ionio in magno: quas dira Celano,
Harpyriæque colunt aliæ.

Virg. Æn. iii.

Christ's triumph over death, by his sufferings on

the cross.

A tree was first the instrument of strife,
Where EvE to sin her soul did prostitute;
A tree is now the instrument of life,

Though ill that trunk and Christ's fair body suit:
Ah, cursed tree! and yet, oh blessed fruit!

That death to him, this life to us doth give;
Strange is the cure, when things past cure revive,

And the Physician dies to make his patient live.

Christ's triumph over death by his passion in the garden.

So may we oft a tender father see,

To please his wanton son, his only joy,
Coast all about to catch the roving bee,
And, stung himself, his busy hands employ
To save the honey for the gamesome boy :
Or from the snake her rancorous teeth erase,
Making his child the toothless serpent chase,
Or with his little hands her swelling crest embrace.

Thus Christ himself to watch and sorrow gives,
While dew'd in easy sleep dead Peter lies:
Thus man in his own grave securely lives,

While Christ alive with thousand horrors dies,
Yet more for ours than his own pardon cries.

No sins he had, yet all our sins he bare;

So much doth God for others' evils care,

And yet so careless men for their own evils are.

The treachery of Judas is thus represented :

See drowsy Peter, see where Judas wakes,

Where Judas kisses him whom Peter flies;
O kiss, more deadly than the sting of snakes!
False love, more hurtful than true injuries!
Ah me! how dearly God his servant buys!
For God his man at his own blood doth hold,
And man his God for thirty pence hath sold:

So tin for silver goes, and dunghill-dross for gold.

The spirits of just men made perfect, are very poetically described in the following stanza:

No sorrow now hangs clouding on their brow;
No bloodless malady empales the face:

No age drops on their hairs his silver snow;

No nakedness their bodies does embase;
No poverty themselves and theirs disgrace;

No fear of death the joy of life devours;

No unchaste sleep their precious time deflowers:

No loss, no grief, no change wait on their winged hours.

LETTER CCVII.

Weston-Favell, Nov. 7. 1758.

REVEREND AND DEAR SIR,-I SHOULD be very ungrateful, if I did not thank you for your late present; and for the many obliging things you are pleased to say of me and my writings, in your valuable letter. I hope they will be successful advocates for the furtherance of the gospel; and I am very sorry to hear by you, as well as from several other of my correspondents in Scotland, that the gentlemen of letters in that kingdom are deplorably gone off from the simplicity and truth of the Scriptures, and that the Socinian tenets are gaining ground apace. I could wish, methinks, at this critical juncture, that Alsop's* Anti-Sozzo, which made its first appearance in 1675, was judiciously abridged, and, in the neat Glasgow type, reprinted in a duodecimo volume; though it is almost a pity to abridge it, (unless it was well executed), as the whole is so interesting, and might be contained in two duodecimo volumes, or even in one octavo volume, if printed at Glasgow. It is, I can assure you, a very smart book, and one of the best defences of the evangelical doctrines I ever saw, or ever expect to see, even if my life, which now draws very near its end, could be prolonged to the next century. In short, I think it an unanswerable performance; and divines of every denomination would do well to make themselves thoroughly masters of this spirited and entertaining writer, as they would then be able to defend the truth as it is in Jesus against all kind of opponents,

* Anti-Sozzo, or against Socinus (Faustus), a native of Sienna, whose Italian name was Sozzo. He wrote a book about 1575, entitled, De Jesu Christo Servatore, and died 1604.

how witty, keen, subtle, or malignant soever the attack might be. I would therefore beg you to recommend this book as a specific against Socinianism, and use your interest to have it forthwith reprinted at Glasgow.

Glad I am to be informed, that you are so very zealous for the honour and interest of our Lord Jesus Christ. What can make mankind happy, but his gospel? What is worthy of our sedulous application, but his interest? What will be a substantial reward, but his acceptance, favour, and love?

I am now reduced to a state of infant weakness, and given over by my physician. My grand consolation is to meditate on Christ; and I am hourly repeating those heart-reviving lines of Dr Young, in his fourth night.

This, only this, subdues the fear of death:

And what is this? Survey the wondrous cure;
And at each step let higher wonder rise!
1. Pardon for infinite offence! 2. and pardon
Through means that speak its value infinite!

3. A pardon bought with blood! 4. With blood divine!
5. With blood divine of him I made my foe!

6. Persisted to provoke! 7. Though woo'd and aw'd,
Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still!

8. A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne!

9. Nor I alone! 10. A rebel universe:

11. My species up in arms! 12. Not one exempt.

13. Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies!

14. Most joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt!
15. As if our race were held of highest rank;
And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man.

These amazingly comfortable lines, I dare say, you will treasure up in your heart; and when you think of them, will think of me; and I hope, dear sir, pray for me, that I may not disgrace my ministry, or dishonour the gospel of my Master in my last moments, by unbelief! base provoking unbelief! This probably is the last time you will ever hear from me: for indeed it is with some difficulty I have wrote now; but I shall not fail to remember you in my intercessions for my friends at the throne of