mental achievements. The vast accessions of knowledge which, of late years, have rewarded investigation and enterprise, and still more the truly beautiful and sublime" displays of original genius, which are daily appearing to charm and transport all who have imaginations to captivate, and hearts to feel, ought for ever to shame such persons into si lence, and lead them to estimate their limited talents more justly. The names of Davy, Scott, Byron, and other gifted individuals, will here occur to the recollection of our readers -persons who have commanded the admiration and the gratitude of their countrymen, for the noble use their genius has enabled them to make even of the objects with which we are most familiar and daily conversant-who have constructed for themselves monuments of deathless fame from materials deemed by men of ordinary minds too worthless or insignificant once to draw their regard. And yet, when we see so much made of them, we are apt to wonder why they could be so long overlooked. The same praise, we think, is due to Mr Milman, who has been fortunate not merely in the choice of a consecrated, an unappropriated, and withal a well known theme, but has been equally happy in the execution of his design. Numerous and great as are the rivals with which a poet of the present day must cope in his way to distinction, we hesitate not to affirm, that, in point of elevation of sentiment, dignity of language, developement of character, and, above all, the energy of the lyrical strains with which the piece is diversified, the author of "The Fall of Jerusalem" is fully entitled to take his station in the first rank of poetical eminence.

The opening of this drama is well fitted to command attention. At the close of the day, Titus, with his officers around him, stands upon. the Mount of Olives with Jerusalem full in his view, and directs Caius Placidus to advance the eagles even to the walls of that "rebellious city." The description of the city is given in the following splendid strains.

Tit. It must be

And yet it moves me, Romans! it confounds
The counsels of my firm philosophy,
That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must
pass o'er,

VOL. VIL

And barren salt be sown on yon proud city. As on our olive crowned hill we stand, Where Kedron at our feet its scanty waters Distils from stone to stone with gentle motion,

As through a valley sacred to sweet peace, How boldly doth it front us! how majes tically!

Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill side
Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,
Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer
To the blue heavens. Here bright and
sumptuous palaces,

With cool and verdant gardens interspers'd; Here towers of war that frown in massy strength.

While over all hangs the rich purple eve, As conscious of its being her last farewell of light and glory to that fated city.

And, as our clouds of battle dust and smoke
Are melted into air, behold the Temple,
In undisturb'd and lone serenity,
Finding itself a solemn sanctuary
In the profound of heaven! It stands be-
fore us

A mount of snow fretted with golden pinnacles!

The very sun, as though he worshipp❜d there,

Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs;
And down the long and branching porti-

Titus, however, feels himself borne against the devoted city by an overpowering impulse, which, though finely imagined, and justifiable, both by a reference to the tenets of Paganism, and the predictions concerning the destruction of Jerusalem, ought, we think, to have been less perceptible to himself, and the commander of the mitted to feel that he retained his free Roman legions might have been peragency. The resolute obstinacy with which the Jews withstood the authoed sufficient to account for his deterrity of Rome might have been deemmination to devote them, with their capital city, to destruction.

The exquisite beauty of the next scene must plead our excuse for giving Javan, a Christian, who had left the so long an extract.-The speakers are city, and Miriam, daughter of Simon, surnamed the Assassin, one of the chief leaders of the Jews.

The Fountain of Siloe.-Night. JAVAN. Sweet fountain, once again I

visit thee!

And thou art flowing on, and freshening still

3 x

tion

From spirit so pure, dwell evermore upon thee.

Oh! how dost thou, beloved proselyte To the high creed of him who died for men, Oh! how dost thou commend the truths I teach thee,

By the strong faith and soft humility Wherewith thy soul embraces them! Thou prayest,

And I, who pray with thee, feel my words wing'd,

And holier fervour gushing from my heart, While heaven seems smiling kind acceptance down

On the associate of so pure a worshipper. But ah! why com'st thou not? these two long nights

I've watch'd for thee in vain, and have not felt

The music of thy footsteps on my spiritVoice at a distance. Javan!

Jav. It is her voice! the air is fond of
it,

And enviously delays its tender sounds
From the ear that thirsteth for them-

Jav. Dearest, they are here:

Without being mock'd and taunted with their misery. pp. 13-17.

After more of this beautiful interview, Javan at last says,

And wilt thou leave me?

Jav.
Mir. My father!,

Juv.

Miriam ! is not thy father

(Oh, that such flowers should bloom on

such a stock!)

The curse of Israel? even his common

name

Simon the Assassin of the bloody men

granate,

The bloodiest!

Of winding thought, word, act, to thy sole purpose;

The enamouring one even now too much enamour'd!

I must admire thee more for so denying, Than I had dared if thou hadst fondly granted.

Thou dost devote thyself to utterest peril, And me to deepest anguish; yet even now Thou art lovelier to me in thy cold severity,

Flying me, leaving me without a joy, Without a hope on earth, without thyself; Thou art lovelier now than if thy yielding soul

Had smiled on me a passionate consent.

Go! for I see thy parting homeward look, Go in thy beauty! like a setting star,

The last in all the thick and moonless heavens,

O'er the lone traveller in the trackless desert.

Go! if this dark and miserable earth
Do jealously refuse us place for meeting,
There is a heaven for those who trust in

Christ.

Farewell!

Mir.

And thou return'st !-

Yet must I endure

For if he knew it came from Christian hands,

While the ripe fruit was bursting at his lips,

While the cool wine-cup slaked his burning throat,

He'd dash it to the earth, and trample on it;

And then he'd perish, perish in his sinsFather I come but I have vow'd to sing A hymn this night,-I'll follow thee anon. p. 33.

Salone, wild and alınost crazed with enthusiasm, accompanies her father to the feast, and to hear his "stern-told glories." Miriam, on the contrary, employs herself in devotion. She prays fervently, that the "desert" of her father's "cruel breast" might be made " a paradise of soft and gentle thoughts." And we wish we had room to transcribe the whole of her hymn to the Saviour. These are its concluding stanzas.

Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake;

A little while the eonscious earth did shake At that foul deed by her fierce children done;

A few dims hours of day

The world in darkness lay;
Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
cloudless sun:
Consenting to thy doom;

Ere yet the white-robed Angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not

stand

With devastation in thy red right hand, Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous

crew;

But thou didst haste to meet Thy mother's coming feet,

The fruit, the wine- -Oh! when I part

from thee

faithful few.

66

angry altercation ensues between Simon and John, who tax each other with the repulse their arms had experienced. The High Priest again interferes, and fills all present with horror, by informing them, that prayers had been made in the Temple, even to the crucified Man our fathers slew." Simon declares, that were it his own child who had done this deed, he would hurl destruction on her guilty head. Salone is about to accuse her sister, when a voice at a distance is heard exclaiming, "Israel! Israel!" This exclamation is found to proceed from Abiram, a false prophet, who declares it to be the will of Heaven, that Amariah, son of John, and Salone, daughter of Simon, should be united together in marriage.