1830.] 



Domestic and Foreign. 



233 



Ne'er shall the cup of worldly blisa be mine, &c. 



And the reason is 

 I know the world is false, and vain, and void, 

 Have felt it such, and ne'er will to it trust, &c. 



And, then, to give a proof he knows 

 what he is talking about, he tells a tale of 

 two young lovers, whose sires were at first 

 both " well to do ;" but, at last, when one of 

 them was no longer " well to do," the 

 other refused to give his daughter to the 

 bankrupt's son, and so the young lady 

 pined, and the youth became a " noble 

 ruin," &c. This is an opportunity not to 

 be thrown away of abusing interest, the 

 source of this calamity, right and left. How 

 shall he describe " its all-efficient, fatal 

 character?" Fit symbols are likely to be 

 scarce, it seems he scrapes all, however, 

 his memory furnishes. It is the dry-rot of 

 nature cankerworm moth rust wax 

 gall ; worse than the burning stream which 

 Etna vomits worse than beams of forked 

 lightning ; it is the upas of the mental 

 world it is the god of this villainous, &c. 

 If the reader wish for more, there is a whole 

 volume of it, of the same unmeasured, un- 

 discriminating character. The lines are 

 often smooth enough, and vigorous in their 

 march ; but the diction is frequently poor, 

 and the sentiment always of the same 

 school-boy cast. 



Mr. Milman^s Appendix to his History 

 of the Jews. A most unmeasured cry has 

 been raised against Mr. Milman for employ- 

 ing some of his own sound common sense 

 in the interpretation of Scripture, and 

 which, from the many quarters in the 

 church and out of it, from whence it rose, 

 required some serious notice. Mr. M., in 

 justification, has judiciously appealed, as he 

 had done indeed before to the Bishop of 

 London, to admitted authorities, instead of 

 supporting his sentiments by farther argu- 

 mentation. It is surely enough that the 

 passages against which exceptions were 

 most vehemently taken, breathe precisely 

 the tone of the Family Bible of the Society 

 for Promoting Christian Knowledge, known 

 as Mant and D'Oyly's. This will satisfy 

 the Church party, with whom Mr. M. is, of 

 course, most concerned, if it will not the 

 Evangelical clique, who are not likely to 

 be pleased with anybody's version but their 

 own. 



Exodus, or the Curse of Egypt, ly 

 T. B. J. This little volume modestly 

 appeals to the patronage of Glasgow, the 

 city of the writer's habitation, from whom, 

 though " all bow down to the calf of gold, 

 few walk to the temple of the Muses," he 

 ventures to solicit rather justice than mercy, 

 and not many can do so with so good a 

 grace, or with so good a chance of escaping 

 a whipping. What the worshipful Glas- 

 gowites may deem of the performance, we 

 know not ; but the poem, we are sure, need 

 fear no comparison with any of the Biblical 



M.M. New Series. VOL, IX, No, 56. 



poems with which we- have of late been 

 deluged. The principal poem consists of a 

 series of sketches of the plagues of Egypt, ' 

 simply strung together. The few hints of 

 the Scriptures are expounded often very 

 happily, though occasionally with a little 

 too much luxuriance, and then occur speci- 

 mens of an undisciplined taste. 



We pick out a scrap from the desolating 

 and depressing effects of the locusts : 

 Ye rivers! silver serpents of the hills, 

 Sons of the mountains and the mountain crags, 

 Who go like pilgrims murmuring oh your way ; 

 Well may ye murmur on your journey now ! 

 Ye do not leap from rock to rock, so light 

 In all the playfulness of strength and youth ; 

 The flowery fringes of your streams are gone 

 The fisher's song is hushed upon your waves 

 The voice of playful children is not near 

 Nor bathes voluptuous beauty in your kiss 

 Nor hear ye lovers' tales upon your banks 

 Nor mirror happy maidens in your glass. 



Ye breezes ye may wail upon your way, 

 For all the lovely things ye used to meet 

 Upon your journeyings, are in their graves ; 

 The flowers are dead, from whom ye gathered 



balm, 

 And over whom ye shook your dewy wing?, &c. 



We must give another morsel, descriptive 

 of the queen's despair when Pharaoh quit* 

 her in chace of the Hebrews. 

 Upon a splendid 'Ottoman she threw 

 Her pallid form ; and it was diamond-decked 

 And clothed with woven gold, and softly laid 

 With the down of the swan that loves the Nile ; 

 The sphinx, the ibis, and the cat of gold 

 All looked down coldly on her wildering grief ; 

 Cold was their aspect, they consoled her not : 

 Her Nubian slaves that bend the supple knee, 

 And fan her with the fair flamingo's wing, 

 Cannot allay the fever of her brain ; 

 Nor all around the walls of Arabesque, 

 Nor pearls and shells brought from the Red Sea 



coast, 



Nor silver mirror which she bowed before, 

 Nor her gay equipage, can charm her more ; 

 Before the storm of sorrow which now blew, 

 Her reason's bark went down nor rose again. 

 Not all the medicines that Iris knew 

 Could heal her not the sainted amulet 

 Could cheer the bosom it was hung upon, &c. 



The author pleads youth and unpropi- 

 tious circumstances he need not depre- 

 cate ; he has fancy and language to make 

 a poet; his style and diction, are sweet,, 

 smooth, and flowing, and yet not made up 

 of nothing but set phrases, and well-worn 

 allusions. 



The Divine System of the Universe, $c., 

 by William Woodley -The foundation of 

 this performance appears to have been laid 

 by Mr. Brothers the prophet, we suppose, 

 Or one of his fraternity ; the superstructure 

 was built by one Commander Woodley, 

 and their double labours are accompanied 

 by a sympathetic introduction from the 

 editor, whose own name unhappily does not 

 appear. The adventurous introducer him- 



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