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for the abandonment of the institutions, corrupted or neglected; but that the zeal which has been too often expended in declaiming against the evil, or protecting against the institution found liable to corruption, ought to be directed to restore the institution to its due condition, to supply all that is wanting to its integrity and validity. A ready-made perfect form of religion, without the concurrence of faith, good-will, and forbearance on the part of its adherents, will never be found, and indeed, if discovered, would contradict some of the main purposes of a true religion. But, to speak soberly, how many who speak in favour of their dissent on grounds of natural inclination, argue for that very principle from which all the evil in the world has emanated!

We know not how others may have found it, but we have rarely heard any sectarian and separatistic argument which did not, very speedily and easily, resolve itself into the old argument from evil, which must lead to evil, as principles of moral action, like waters which in their flow, will never rise higher than the fount.

A parishioner finds faults, either real or imaginary, in the conduct of his minister. He protests against that which he thinks evil. But why is it evil? Because it is instinctively. felt to be of a separating and disorganizing tendency. And what does the offended parishioner do? He yields to this very tendency, and allows the evil to diffuse itself, and even makes himself its instrument. But the people are instructed in a style so partial and superficial, that they attach all their censure to certain forms of evil, forgetting that they themselves may be propagating the same principle in other forms. Let them be taught the meaning of the word GOOD, and they will learn that it is not its nature to be put to flight and scared away from the path of duty by every contradiction. The purer a principle, the more it has in it of truth and good the more expansive it will be the more it will diffuse itself abroad, and correct and transmute errors and defects. The summary of all ecclesiastical, as of all moral conduct, is found in these words of holy writ, well worthy of a life's study-" Be not OVERCOME OF EVIL; BUT OVERCOME EVIL WITH GOOD."

Lastly, let us not be afraid of upholding the Church as an institution of genuine philanthropy. Really, the people at large are not dissenting from us on any of those abstract points of doctrine and ecclesiastical rule, about which some few persons raise a clamour; but simply because they are straying elsewhere in search of that communion and happiness which they have not been taught to find in the Church. Let the laity be awakened to the labour of philanthropy-let the poor and the afflicted be

visited-let the Church go about doing good to men-let our children be trained up cheerfully to love the exercises of the Church-let them learn to chaunt the psalms-let them be made to feel that they are the "little children" of the "kingdom of heaven"-let a soul of happiness and benevolence animate all the services of the Church, and we shall be spared the pains of writing books and preaching austere discourses against heresy and schism. The people want food and comfort, and it is of no use driving the poor sheep into the ancient enclosures, if you have not good pasturage for them.

Our suggestions may be condemned as unpractical. Of course they must be so to those who will not practise them, as the summit of the tiniest hillock will be equally inaccessible with the loftiest peak of the Himalayas, to those who will not advance a step.

ART. VIII.-Poems from Eastern Sources. By RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH. London: Moxon. 1842.

2. Poems. By THOMAS POWELL. London: Effingham Wilson. 3. Bells and Pomegranates, No. III. Dramatic Lyrics. By ROBERT BROWNING. London: Moxon. 1842.

WE do not combine these three productions under one head because they resemble each other, but because they are, in all respects, different: they are as unlike, both in spirit and in form, as could be imagined, except only in the circumfusing bond of the poetic art, the great halo of which comprises every orb of song. We propose, then, by the force of contrast, not in the unloving critical sense of the term, but in the harmonious acceptance of artists, to display the essential character and peculiar features of each to the best advantage. If in this process it shall here and there befall that one or other may appear to the worst advantage, we feel ourselves compelled to resort to a paradox, and affirm that in this case the worst may also be identical with the best; truth being the prime good for us all, and example being an excellent "thing done" for every one who is not too high and obstinate for warning or profit.

Mr. Trench is a learned man, and, as it should seem, familiarly, perhaps profoundly, versed in the languages and ancient lores of the Persian, Hebrew, and Greek, together with the German, Spanish, and other languages. From these sources, particularly the Hebrew and Persian, he has taken sketches and derived

hints, which he has worked out in the present volume. This is our impression, founded upon the contents of the volume, and an introductory note by the author, though it certainly tends to "darken knowledge." by its vagueness as to particulars. Here is it for the reader to see what he can make of it :—

"The following poems bear somewhat a vague title, because such only would describe the nature of poems which have been derived in very different degrees from the sources thus indicated. Some are mere translations; others have been modelled anew, and only such portions used of the originals as were adapted to my purpose of others it is only the imagery of thought which are eastern, and these have been put together in new combinations; while of others it is the story, and nothing more, which has been borrowed, it may be from some prose source. On this subject, however, more information will be given in the notes."

The author does not specify with each of his poems which is the "mere translation," nor which he has modelled anew, nor which he has taken in parts, nor the particular original source from which, in a certain poem, he has only borrowed the "imagery" and the "thought." We meddle not with those which "it may be" he has taken from "some prose source, because, it may be, after all, he has not done so, and those are really his own. Still we ought to have been told, at least we should have preferred it, although our opinion will honestly be formed of things as they are, no matter whence they come.

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Looking attentively through the volume of poems by Mr. Powell, the author gives us the impression of a man who is excessively fond of the atmosphere of books, but who does not read them. We could imagine him seated for hours in the middle of a library of authors, old and new, and gazing around with that purest of pleasure which belongs only to sympathy, speculating upon the contents of each by their backs, and striving to fill them with his own thoughts and feelings, all very much confused by the variety and contrariety of the attempt. He prefers to draw upon his own resources rather than to labour for their enlargement and increase. His "Modernizations from Chaucer," which have been elsewhere highly commended in this Review, would seem, in part, to contradict our opinion by the care and labour bestowed upon them; but no doubt he got some friend to do the "mechanical," which, honestly speaking, we all most cordially hate. Those poems which he calls "translations" are rather paraphrases. He takes up an author, and makes just what he pleases of him, from sheer (but mistaken) affection for his name. We perceive no love of book-work in this poet. Nevertheless it is plain that he has great facility

in his art, which is probably the result, not of serious study, but of constant and loving practice.

There is a vast amount of hard work and long-suffering in the muse of Mr. Browning. Our head whizzes with the sudden conception of the heterogeneous mass of books he has read, and we fall back in our arm-chair before the battering shower of his names of men and places, historical, or never known, and the wheeling zodaic of imagery derived from the arts, and from physical and mental science. He is, nevertheless, a truly original writer; and whenever he borrows an idea or a subject--we will not use the hacknied and unsound phrase of a man making a thing his own which is derived elsewhere he adds to it, as much as, and usually much more than, he finds, and developes it in a manner peculiar to himself.

Mr. Trench writes, for the most part, elegantly, and with very great care and study; but it is not always successful, and frequently has a raw, unskilful, if not awkward appearance. Mr. Powell writes very unequally, because carelessly, and evidently with rapidity. To this very circumstance some of his best things, as well as his worst, are attributable. It is "very hard" upon the laborious workers that a man should ever do the best that can be done of a particular kind, by taking no pains at all; so, however, it frequently occurs, and a happy thought being invariably the birth of an instant, will often save all trouble (on philosophical as well as artistical principles) by expressing itself simultaneously. In Mr. Browning's writings, we should conjecture that their elaborate finish was the result of much time and labour. He often refines away the very point and edge of that which he most wishes to establish, and exalts his climax to invisibility. Yet is he also full of happy promptings of ideas unsought.

But it is time to quote some extracts in illustration of these remarks. What else we have to say, aesthetically, and as "matter of essence," concerning these three writers, will follow in due course. We commence with Mr. Trench's poem, en

titled

"CHIDHER'S WELL.

"THEE have thousands sought in vain

Over land and barren main,

Chidher's well-of which they say

That it maketh young again;

Fountain of eternal youth,

Washing free from every stain.

To its waves the aged moons
Aye betake them, when they wane;

And the suns their golden light,
While they bathe therein, retain.

From that fountain drops are flung,
Mingling with the vernal rain,

And the old Earth clothes itself
In its young attire again.
Thitherward the freckled trout
Up the water-courses strain,
And the timid wild gazelles
Seek it through the desert plain.
Great Iskander,* mighty lord,
Sought that fountain, but in vain ;
Through the land of darkness went
In its quest with fruitless pain,

While through wealth of conquered worlds
Did his thirst unslaked remain.

Many more with parched lip
Must lie down, and dizzy brain,

And of that, a fountain sealed
Unto them, in death complain.

If its springs to thee are known,
Weary wanderer, tell me plain.
From beneath the throne of God
It must well, a lucid vein.

To its sources lead me, Lord,
That I do not thirst again,

And my lips not any more

Shall the earth's dark waters stain." (pp. 11, 12.)

To this pleasing, lulling, and gently murmuring peom belongs the following most unexpected and formidable Note:

"Of Chidher's Well, the Eastern λovтpòv waλiyyeverías, Von Hammer, in his very interesting introduction to his History of Persian Poetry,' gives a good account. Among other things, he says, 'Contemporary with Moses lived the Prophet Chiser, of whom some hold that he is the same with Elias, while others altogether distinguish them. He is one of the chief personages of Eastern Mythology, the ever-ready helper of the oppressed, the genius of spring, the deliverer in peril, the admonisher of princes, the avenger of unrighteousness, the guide through the wilderness of the world, and, finally, the everyouthful guardian of the fountain of life. As such he revives the youth of men, and beasts, and plants, gives back lost beauty, and in

VOL. XIII.-F F

* Alexander

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