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Gen. xii. 7. but refers to the promise made to him immediately after Isaac had been offered up intentionally by his father.' p. 33. Is not this a pure begging of the question, supported only by a train of suppositions, each and all equally unfounded? And does the author think that his observation, accompanying this assertion, will make it more palatable to the judicious critic? What renders this more remarkable (says he) is, that this circumstance took place precisely at exactly the half of the period from the crea tion of the world to the crucifixion of Christ, upon that selfsame mount Moria: as will hereafter be clearly proved, in the course of this work.' For these proofs we have anxiously sought, but have not been happy enough to find them. However, that the author may not think that we injure him, we will (with our patient reader's permission) transcribe the proofs of his seventh and last proposition, to which he probably refers us: (p. 104, &c.)

Some authors have entertained the opinion, that Isaac must have been as much as 33 years old at the time he suffered himself to be bound of his father, as bearing more affinity with the age of Christ, Others have contended, that he was not then more than 25. This being the case, and the precise time uncertain, I shall take the liberty of supposing him to be just 28 years old at the time; and we are informed Gen. xxi. 5, that his father Abraham was an 100 when Isaac was born; add to both these the age of the world when Abram was born, viz. 1948, and they make just 2076 to be the year of the world when Isaac was bound by his father Abraham, with the intention of being offered up for a burnt-offering, as a type of Christ. Add then the age of Christ when crucified, viz. 33 years, to the age of the world when Christ was born, as hath been proved by this chronology, viz. 4119, and both will make just 4152, which is just double the period of time which had elapsed previous to Isaac being bound by his father Abraham, with a view to be offered up as a type of Christ.

What has induced me to dwell so particularly on this circumstance is, having been given to understand that the last sentence of the 14th verse of the xxii. chap. of Genesis is not properly translated from the original Hebrew text, or it would run thus," in this mount the Lord shall be seen;" that is, the Lord Jehovah shall be seen. Which was actually verified when Christ suffered upon that very identical MOUNT MORIA, on which, you will observe, the temple was built, sce 2 Chron. iii. 1. And that it was the Lord Jehovah HIMSELF that was seen on that mount, I refer to Christ's own words, as recorded by his beloved disciple, John the Evangelist, see John xiv. 7-11. And I think there can be no manner of doubt, but that it was the same person that appeared to Abram, Gen. xiv. and xviii. chapters. That this is not an unwarrantable construction upon the above passage in John, I refer to Isai. xliii. 10, 11; xliv. 6, 8, 243 xlv. 5 to 23; xlvi. 9; xlvii. 4; xlviii. 17; xlix. 26; liv. 5, 8; sce also John i. 1, 3, 10, 14; 1 Timothy iii. 16; also Hosea xiii. 4, 9, 14.

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Having now, I trust, completely cleared up all my propositions collectively as well as severally, I shall only add a few remarks. If this chronology is not incontrovertibly correct, certain it is that the scripture is inadequate and insufficient to furnish us with a connected chronology; which would be a very essential defect, and greatly tend to derogate from its divine authenticity as recorded by Moses, who was, without the least doubt, instructed by God himself for that purpose. And as to the 69 weeks mentioned Dan. ix. 25, which imply 483 years, and which have been proved to commence in the first year of Cyrus; I make no hesitation whatever in firmly relying upon the truth and verity of that divine prophecy, in preference to a vague, uncertain and confused chronology, on which, its very votaries have confessed, there is no certainty or dependance to be placed.'

We imagine that, after this specimen, we need not give our opinion of the style, reasoning, and acumen of this wellmeaning writer.

Ged...

ART. IV. Poems and Plays. By Mrs. West, Author of " A Tale of the Times," "A Gossip's Story," &c. &c. 2 Vols. 12mo. Ics. Boards. Longman and Rees. 1799.

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HE public have already been made acquainted with Mrs. West, by several novels, and by some poetical composi tions, which have been honoured with a respectable share of approbation. The elegant little volumes before us will not depreciate her literary reputation, though it is probable that she will find the Parnassian Mount less fertile of gain than the humbler field of storied fiction.

The dramatic pieces, which Mrs. W. here submits to the closet-judgment of the public, are a Tragedy called Adela, of which the subject is taken from feudal times-the "days of chivalry" which, alas! are now no more!-and a Comedy called How will it end? The tragedy was offered to the manager of DruryLane Theatre, about three years ago, and declined; from an opinion that it was unlikely to succeed on the stage; it met a similar fate from the manager of Covent-Garden; to whom also the Comedy was presented during the last winter, which he likewise refused. We do not think that these circumstances alone are proofs of their demerit; for we recognize the truth of Mrs. W.'s observation that theatrical managers, in our times, look for something different from plot, character, sentiment, or moral, in order to secure a favourable reception to a new piece.' The taste of the times, perhaps, compels them to do so:-a taste which we cannot help calling vicious, as it insists on a seasoning of the supernatural and the marvellous, even in those compositions of which sound criticism has declared probability to be an essential ingredient. The charge of bombast, pageantry, and unnatural inconsistent horrors (Mrs. W. observes) has been proved against tragedy; and comedy labours under

the

the strong censure of confused plot, exaggerated character, and buffoonery.' Our opinion of Mrs. West's comedy is, that it possesses very considerable merit, with respect to the conception and delineation of character, the soundness of its sentiments, and the purity of its moral; and, if the public should receive as much pleasure from the representation of it as we have gained from the perusal, we are confident that the exhibition of it would not be either unsuccessful or unprofitable. With regard to her Tragedy, our hopes are less sanguine. Probably the muse of Mrs. West is of too soft and gentle a character, to rise to the energy and pathos which are indispensable when the object is to rouse the stronger passions. She may please, divert, and inform: but she cannot agitate. Biank verse, too, is not perhaps the garb in which she best knows how to dress her sentiments. Her compositions of this kind seem to want something both of spirit and of harmony.

Among the detached poems, many possess very considerable merit. The Ode to Poetry abounds with beautiful and spirited imagery, and will afford the reader much of that kind of pleasure which, after all, is perhaps a better criterion of poetic merit than the rules of pedantic criticism. The following stanzas are taken from that part of the ode which is devoted to uncultivated poetry::

Amid the oaks which now compose

The bulwarks of the British clime,
The Druids curs'd their country's foes,
And taught their mysteries sublime;
Their theme was "Liberty and truth,"
Around them flock'd th' impassion'd youth,
And when the numbers ceas'd to flow,
Impatient for the glorious field,

In mimic fights they rais'd the shield,

Impell'd the scythe-arm'd car, and twang'd the elastic bow.

• Where nature's wild disorder shocks

Yet charms th' enthusiastic breast,

Mid roaring floods and barren rocks,

Their harps the Scottish minstrels press'd;

With bold imagination warm,

They saw the genius of the storm

Rear on the hill his cloud-built throne,

While trackless as the rushing air,

The spirits of the dead repair

Nightly to chaunt the song that speaks of worlds unknown.

Heard'st thou the lay the Runic prince

Pour'd in the dungeon's living tomb?
Does not each dauntless thought evince
The soul of Regulus and Rome?
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With notes like his, the Cimbrian Thor
Led Scandinavia's chiefs to war,

And steel'd their hearts to pity's strain ;
Such were the awful hymns that rung

On Elbe's gren banks, to Woden sung,

When Hengist turn'd his keel to Albion's ravag'd plain.

'Oh spare yon cloister's walls, nor aid
The ruin of neglect and age;
Those walls preserv'd the tuneful maid
From Gothic and from feudal rage;
There, when from Ister's boist'rous surge,
To pale Hesperia's southern verge,

The Vandal march'd, resistless foe,
When each affrighted science fled
A land with human carnage red,

The pitying Muse retir'd, and wept the general woe

Ah, how unlike that monkish strain,
To her exalted songs of yore!
But darkness and despondence reign
And intellect expands no more;
At length the orient's bright'ning ray
Gives promise of a glorious day;

From proud Alraschid's splendid court
Long beams of splendour reach the west;
And see, in Moorish turbans dress'd,

The banish'd arts return! I hail their graceful port.?

Of the minor poems, some are playful, and some grave and pathetic. It is in the former kind that Mrs. W. seems most happy-though we cannot say that her sonnets and her elegies do not frequently wrap the imagination and sometimes interest the heart. The following extract from a poem to a friend on her marriage, though a very early composition of the author, is a fair specimen of her manner in the lighter kind of poetry:

Accept the verse, sincere and free,

Which flows, unstudied flows, to thee;
And though the critic's searching eye
Might many a latent error spy,
Let not thy kinder taste condemn
The failings of thy sister's pen;
Some send a message, some a card,
Verse is the tribute of the bard;
Congratulate's a word so long,
I scarce can weave it in my song,
And fear I must again employ
The ancient phrase of " wish you joy!"
I'm forc'd to write without the muses,

Į ask'd them, but they sent excuses;

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They

They fancied that I meant to flout 'em,
But I can scribble on without 'em.

So, Lady Juno, Queen of Marriage,
Order'd the peacocks to her carriage!
Miss Iris had a hasty summons,

To fetch a licence from the Commons;
Venus and all the little loves,
A shopping went for ring and gloves;
Apollo brought his chariot down,
In hopes to drive you up to town;
Minerva wove new-fashion'd satins,
Vulcan perhaps might make you pattens;
Bacchus (this rather strains belief)
Turn'd cook, and spitted the roast beef;
Hebe, like Hannah, dress'd so fine,
With curtesies carried round the wine;
Then Love his torch to Hymen carried,
And in plain English you were married.'

These volumes are very neatly printed, on fine paper: but elegant printing is no rarity in these hard times!

ART. V. The Rise, Progress, and Consequences of the new Opinions and Principles lately introduced into France: with Observations. 8vo. pp. 272. 5s. Boards. Printed at Edinburgh. London, Wright, 1799.

IT is not easy to point out a subject more important, more extensive, and more difficult, than that which this anonymous author has chosen. Perhaps its difficulty is increased by its having been now for ten years the trite topic of the learned and the ignorant,- of the profound and the superficial ;-the object of detestation and the theme of praise. Much subtlety, and considerable eloquence, would be requisite to attract new light to a subject already so fully discussed; or to give new graces to what has before been said by the many able writers whose pens it has occupied. The author, therefore, who ventures to "beat this ample field," which Burke and his many able coadjutors have traversed before him, must either have à strong confidence in his own powers, or must have resolved to be contented with a small portion of literary compensation.

It is scarcely necessary for us to say that a work, with such a title as this essay bears, is anti-jacobinical; and that its object is to refute the opinions and explode the principles of which it professes to treat. The current of the times is set-in too strongly against revolutionary and jacobinical notions, for an author expressly to publish a formal vindication of them :this must come before the public, as it generally does come, disguised in some popular form;-in a poem, in a play, or

perhaps

Wall..e.

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