THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.
Reading edition
THE MESSIAH.
By Robert Montgomery.
The subsequent passages exhibit many of the beauties and few of the blemishes of Mr. Montgomery's new poem:
THE WILDERNESS.
Oh, when hath mind conceived Magnificence beyond a midnight there, When Israel camp'd, and o'er her tented host The moonlight lay?—On yonder palmy mount, Lo! sleeping myriads in the dewy hush Of night repose; around in squared array, The camps are set; and in the midst, apart, The curtain'd shrine, where mystically dwells Jehovah's presence!—through the soundless air A cloudy pillar, robed in burning light, Appears:—concenter'd as one mighty heart, A million lie, in mutest slumber bound. Or, panting like the ocean, when a dream Of storm awakes her:—Heaven and Earth are still; In radiant loveliness the stars pursue Their pilgrimage, while moonlight's wizard hand Throws beauty, like a spectre light, on all. At Judah's tent the lion-banner stands Unfolded, and the pacing sentinels,— What awe pervades them, when the dusky groves, The rocks Titanian, by the moonshine made Unearthly, or yon mountains vast, they view! But soon as morning bids the sky exult, As earth from nothing, so that countless host From slumber and from silence will awake To mighty being! while the forest-birds Rush into song, the matin breezes play, And streamlets flash where prying sunbeams fall: Like clouds in lustre, banners will unroll! The trumpet shout, the warlike tramp resound, And hymns of valour from the marching tribes Ascend to gratulate the risen morn.
PATRIARCHAL TIMES.
A vision of that unforgotten prime, The patriarchal age, when Earth was young, A while oh: let it linger!—oh the soul It breaketh, like a lovely burst of spring Upon the gaze of captives, when the clouds Again are floating over freedom's head!— Though Sin had witherd with a charnel breath Creation's morning bloom, there still remain'd Elysian hues of that Adamic scene, When the Sun gloried o'er a sinless world, And with each ray produced a flower!—From dells Untrodden, hark! the breezy carol comes Upwafted, with the chant of radiant birds.— What meadows, bathed in greenest light, and woods Gigantic, towering from the skiey hills, And od'rous trees in prodigal array, With all the elements divinely calm— Our fancy pictures on the infant globe! And ah! how godlike, with imperial brow Benignly grave, yon patriarchal forms Tread the free earth, and eye the naked heavens! In Nature's stamp of unassisted grace Each limb is moulded; simple as the mind The vest they wear; and not a hand but works, Or tills the ground with honourable toil: By youth revered, their sons around them grow And flourish; monarch of his past'ral tribe, A patriarch's throne is each devoted heart! And when he slumbers on the tented plain Beneath the vigil stars, a living wall Is round him, in the might of love's defence: For he is worthy—sacrifice and song By him are ruled; and oft at shut of flowers, When queenly virgins in the sunset go To carry water from the crystal wells, In beautiful content,—beneath a tree Whose shadows hung o'er many a hallow'd sire, He sits; recording how creation rose From nothing, of the Word almighty born; How Man had fallen, and where Eden boughs Had waved their beauty on the breeze of morn; Or, how the angels still at twilight love To visit earth with errands from the sky.
ISAIAH.
Terrific bard! and mighty—in thy strain A torrent of inspiring passion sounds— Whether for cities by the Almighty cursed, Thy wail arose—or, on enormous crimes That darken'd heav'n with supernat'ral gloom, Thy flash of indignation fell, alike The feelings quiver when thy voice awakes!— Borne in the whirlwind of a dreadful song, The spirit travels round the destin'd globe, While shadows, cast from solemn years to come, Fall round us, and we feel a God is nigh! But when a gladness from thy music flows, Creation brightens!—glory paints the sky, The Sun hath got an everlasting smile, And Earth in temper'd for immortal spring— The lion smoothes his ruffled mane, the lamb And wolf together feed, and by the den Of serpents, see! the rosy infant play.
THE SAVIOUR.
As o'er the grandeur of unclouded heaven Our vision travels with a free delight, As though the boundless and the pure were made For speculation—so the tow'ring mind, By inward oracle inspired and taught, The lofty and the excellent in mind adores. Then, Saviour! what a paragon art Thou Of all that Wisdom in her hope creates— A model for the universe—Though God Be round us, by the shadow of His might For aye reflected, and with plastic hand Prints on the earth the character of things— Yet He Himself,—how awfully retired Depth within depth, unutterably deep! His glory brighter than the brightest thought Can picture, holier than our holiest awe Can worship,—imaged only in I AM! But Thou—apparell'd in a robe of true Mortality; meek sharer of our low Estate, in all except compliant sin; To Thee a comprehending worship pays Perennial sacrifice of life and soul, By love enkindled;—Thou hast lived and breathed; Our wants and woes partaken—all that charms Or sanctifies, to Thine unspotted truth May plead for sanction—virtue but reflects Thine image! wisdom is a voice attuned To consonance with Thine—and all that yields To thought a pureness, or to life a peace, From Thee descends—whose spirit-ruling sway, Invisible as thought, around us brings A balm almighty for affliction's hour— Once felt, in all the fullness of Thy grace The living essence of the living soul,— And there is faith—a firm-set, glorious faith, Eternity cannot uproot, or change— Oh, then the second birth of soul begins, That purifies the base, the dark illumes, And binds our being with a holy spell, Whereby each function, faculty, and thought Surrenders meekly to the central guide Of hope and action, by a God empower'd.
THE CRUCIFIXION.
A God with all his glory laid aside, Behold Him bleeding,—on his awful brow The mingled sorrows of a world repose— "'Tis FINISH'D,"—at those words creation throbs, Round Hell's dark universe the echo rolls— All Nature is unthroned—and mountains quake Like human being when the death-pang comes— The sun has wither'd from the frighted air, And with a tomb-burst, hark, the dead arise And gaze upon the living, as they glide With soundless motion through the city's gloom, Most awfully,—the world's Redeemer dies.
SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.
We quote the following from the Cabinet Cyclopaedia history of these countries:
The Penitential Habit.
"From the fifth century," says Masden, "or from the beginning of the sixth, the custom prevailed in Spain of the infirm, when so heavily afflicted as to be in danger of death, piously assuming the tonsure and the penitential habit, and engaging to continue both through life, if God raised them up. As the use of this penance became common enough to throw discredit on the piety of all who did not thus undertake it, if the sick or dying man was unable to demand the habit, his relations or friends could invest him with it, and his obligation to a penitential life thenceforward was as great as if that obligation had been imposed, not by others, but at his own request, since, as he was charitably supposed to be thus piously inclined, he must of necessity wish to become a penitent. This continued in force until king Chindaswind, impressed with the abuses to which it had given rise, decreed that in such cases the obligation imposed by others should be void unless the patient should afterwards ratify it when in a sound state of mind. Penitents of this class might remain in their own houses, without seclusion within the walls of a monastery; but they were for ever compelled to wear the habit and shaven crown, to shun business and diversions, to lead exemplary and chaste lives: if single, they could not marry; if married, they could not enjoy the privileges of the state: hence, though they inhabited not the cloister, they were of the religious order, and consecrated to God."
"This penance was not merely assumed by such as were anxious to make atonement for some heavy sin; it was often voluntarily undertaken by individuals whose lives had been blameless, and who were anxious by this work of supererogation to increase their stock of merits. If the penitent died of his disease, the intention of his sacrifice was believed to be availing in the sight of Heaven; if he recovered, he became a monk. No less a doom than excommunication, and a rigorous penitential seclusion during life within the walls of a monastery, were hurled against such as married, or used their conjugal privilege, or laid down the habit. If, however, the married penitents were very young at the time he or she entered on the monastic obligation, in case of recovery the bishop had power to permit the use of matrimony a certain number of years. This was called an indulgence or dispensation, the debitum conjugale being totally annihilated by the obligations of the new state.
"This custom is not yet extinct in Spain, though, like many others of a similar kind, its observance is daily weakening since the period of the French revolution, and of the increased intercourse between the two nations. Many of the greatest names in the Spanish annals voluntarily assumed the profession, and thereby ceased to be laymen. Among these was the author of Don Quixote."