Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Mass.) 1828-1830, 1828-06-24
REVIEW.
FOR TIE LANCASTER GAZETTE.


BowRING'S MATHIS AND vESPERS.
Devoted as poetry is to nature, and revel-
ling in rapturous views of her beautiful and
grand and ever changing scenes, tits strange,
and it speaks nothing in praise of the pene-
tration Or feelings of our poets, that so little
of it of late has been devotional. They
cannot look upon forest and river, valley and
mountain, but with an eye of enthusiasm,
nor listen to their musick but with swell
of emotion; yet God is in all his works, and
they see him not. They trace the outline,
and fill up the picture of the diversities OF
human character; paint with living exact
ness the shades of passion and misdirected
talent, and the bright colours of heroism
and high-minded principle; every secluded
nook of the mind they explore and sketch
its Divine Architect they think not of
Strange, wonderful, is it that, glowing with
admiration at the glories of creation exhi-
bited both in matter and mind, they should
be regardless of him who is so far above, yet
infinitely worthy of, all praise. Dull and
| short-sighted as he would seem who wastes
all his wonder on the steam-engine without
rising to the admiration of its illustrious
authors, or even thinking whether it had
any, it is nothing to the midnight blindness
of the enraptured lover of nature who for
gets her God.
From such reproach Mr.. Bowring, one of
the most indefatigable and deserving writer's
of the day, has most amply redeemed his
name. A liberal christian, as we'll as true
poet, he has not been satisfied with blind
idolatry to earth and sky, but has taught
them to speak out in rich thoughts and elo-
quent expression the praises of their Crea-
tor In the little volume which occasions
these remarks, he is distinguished for his
lively and abiding sense of the presence of
the Deity increasingly operating around him.
His sense of divine agency, in all events, is
not intermittent, but strong and habitual.
To take one among bookful of passages
in point -
" Hast thou not seen Him in his proud career,
! Or heard His awful voice? o look around,
| For he is always visible, always near.
| Listen to his eloquent words in every sound
Of zephyr, waterfall, or birds, or bees,
Or thousand songs these sweet and those sublime,
| All natures intellectual harmonies,
| And the soft musick of the stream of time
| See Him in the vernal beauty of the flower,
| In the ripe glory of the autumnal glow;
| In summers rich and radiant festal hour
In winters purest, fairest robes of snow."p. 146.
He is peculiarly happy in his TRANSMISSION
of the language and thoughts of scripture
into melodious verse; as in the following
beautiful application of what is in the orr
ginal truly touching comparison:-
| go say hast thou seen the joy-borr tear
| Bright in mothers eye?
| Hast thou mark'd the babe on her bosom mild,
| Slumbering in innocence yet p
| o she may forget that lovely child,
But God can never forget."-p. 125.
The character of his poetry is rather sim
| pie than imposing. There is no splendid
and striking array, no proud and terrible
marshalling of the forces of poetical genius
we are taken silently and unawares, and we
feel the wounds, unsuspicious that we are
ambushed. Even when there is magnif-
cence it is without effort, and quiet as the
sabbath. He does not let us suspect that he
| is going to be sublime, and when he is SO
lets US find it out ourselves. Observe the
easy and serene dignity of thought in the
second and third stanzas of his noble HYMN
to the Deity
The heavenly spheres to thee, o God attune their
| evening hymn,
Alwise, All-hoy, Thou art praised in song of sera
phim;
Unnumber'd systems, suns and worlds unite to wor
ship Thee,
While thy majestick greatness fills space-time-
eternity.
Mature temple worthy Thee, that beams with
light and love,
Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below, whose stars
rejoice above;
Whose affairs the mountain cliffs that rise along
the shore,
Whose anthems, the sublime accord of storm and
ocean roar;
Her song of gratitude is sung by springs awaken
hours,
Her summer offers at Thy shrine its earliest, love-
Hest flowers;
Her autumn brings its ripend fruits in glorious lux
ury given,
While winters silver heights reflect Thy brightness
back to heaven p
After the seducing RIGHTEOUSNESS of Moore,
and the bold impiety of Byron, both of them