the royal poet manages to communicate the omnipresence of God. Whither shall I go from thy Spirit? There THOU If I make my bed in the nether world, I take the wings of the east, Thy right hand shall hold me up. Ps. cxxxix. 7-10. Thus in the most beautiful and graphic poetry, the omnipresence of God is brought out to the dullest conception. We must remember that the upper, the nether, and the middle world, was the whole universe to a Hebrew mind.* It is true the sacred poets gather their contributions from all the stores which nature has spread out before them; they make the exterior world an illustration of the operations of the mind; and thus they have all the beauties of description, without missing that moral dignity, which mere description never can attain. I allow the powers of Thomson; I admire that mighty genius, which, like Antæus, gathers strength whenever it touches the earth; and yet the reader of the * See Exodus xx. 4. Seasons feels something wanting. He feels as the spectator at the theatre would, in seeing the shiftingscenes (most beautifully painted) of one of Shakspeare's tragedies, and none of the moral sentiments or actions with which these scenes should be filled. Let a man take one of Thomson's best descriptions, and compare it with one equally good in Milton, but where the description is made subservient to a higher result, and feel the difference. As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds Never was there a more beautiful or complete scene brought to view. Had the author's object been mere description, it could not have been more finished; and yet it is only an incidental gem, which he picks up in his path, without going one step out of the way to find it. He has a higher object than mere poetry; he wishes to illustrate the dawnings of transient hope on fallen minds. We have the same dignity in the writings of the Hebrews. They make the material world play around the pedestals of those awful images with which their minds are filled. In the thirty-fourth chapter of Ezekiel, if it had been the sole object of the prophet to describe pastoral life, it could scarcely have been more beautiful. In this respect, his description might rival one of the best pastorals of Theocritus. But at the same time the deepest moral beauty is spread over the whole. God is the shepherd; and he is watching over his people. In a word, the beauties of biblical poetry, like all the severe beauties, must be acquired by study. They are so simple, so unlike modern sentimentalism, that, when first seen, they strike the eye with disappointment. But look again, and your attention will be arrested- —a third time, and you will admire; and once let the model impress your taste, and you will admire forever. It seems to me, for touching the deeper tones of the heart, the Hebrew poetry has an internal grandeur, compared with which, the songs of mythology, are cold and unmeaning. THE PURITAN. No. 35. It is also, obvious, that, though the description of a passion or affection may give us pleasure, whether it be described by the agent or spectator, yet, to those who would apply the inventions of the poet to the uses of philosophic investigation, it is far from being of equal utility with the passion exactly imitated. The talent of imitation, is very different from description, and far superior. Richardson on Shakspeare. MORALITY OF MACBETH. I AM One of those who have no faith in the morality of the theatre. It is long since I have entered those dissolute walls; and I know not that I ever carried from a dramatic performance a salutary impression. A sarcastic friend tells me the fault was my own; he assures me, I wanted the finer feelings which these oblique instructions were designed to reach; and that it is only on the chords of a nicer sensibility, that the tones of the drama will act. He informs me that I never had wit enough to guess the riddle; and that it was in the latent meaning of the well-wrought scene, that the best instruction was found. It may be so; if there was any deep moral instruction in the theatre, it was always latent to me; and therefore I have long since left the school from which no profit was derived. Yet I once listened to the public exhibition of the drama, with the deepest interest and delight. Though I never saw on our stage that perfection of art which we read of in Garrick; the art which is lost in nature, and leads the spectator to forget that it is acting which he sees; yet, I used to admire the fine tones of Cooper, the majesty of Fennel, and the simplicity of Mrs. Jones. Still I never saw a tragedy, (especially of Shakspeare's,) which. I thought, on the whole, improved in the acting.* *This very tragedy, (Macbeth,) is a striking example, of how completely the designs of the poet may fail in the public exhibition. There can be no doubt that the author meant that the appearance of the witches should be exceedingly solemn; he wished to thrill our blood, when these agents of the world of darkness meet their victim, and allure him to perdition, by their metaphysical aid. Yet 1 question, whether it is possible, to introduce three great strapping men on the stage, in the shape of women, with beards on their chins, and broomsticks in their hands, and not make the whole theatre laugh. The whole intended effect of such a scene, must be lost. Though it is many years since I have seen a play, yet I distinctly recollect that the cauldron-scene in the fourth act was, in its effect on the audience, a perfect farce. Not all the agonies which Cooper was accustomed to excite in himself, when the armed head arose, could make the audience sympathize with |