the security of everlasting joys, where the sensualist and the skeptic view only gloom, decay, annihilation, and despair! As to his rank as a poet, the praise of Coleridge is decisive:-"Had not Davy been the first chemist, he probably would have been the first poet of his age." THE TEMPEST. The tempest has darken'd the face of the skies, The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain, The fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise, And mingle the clouds with the white foaming main. Save when the red lightnings the ether divide; But though now all is murky and shaded with gloom, And enamor'd embrace the fair, sweet-smiling peace. For the bright blushing morning, all rosy with light, Then the warblers of Spring shall attune the soft lay, And the sunbeam shall sleep on the hill and the dale. If her once faded beauties so soon glow again; MONT BLANC. With joy I view thee, bathed in purple light, While all around is dark; with joy I see Thee rising from thy sea of pitchy clouds Into the middle heaven, As if a temple to the Eternal raised By all the earth, framed of the pillar'd rock, And canopied with everlasting snow! That lovely river, rolling at my feet Its bright green waves, and winding midst the rocks, Its flood of waters; through a devious course, Though it has laved the fertile plains, and wash'd Its native character of mountain strength,— Its color, and its motion. Such are those Among the generations of mankind To whom the stream of thought descends from heaven, Of sacred genius. Through the world they pass Still uncorrupted, and on what they take From social life bestow a character Of dignity. Greater they become, WILLIAM HAZLITT, 1778-1830. WILLIAM HAZLITT, a distinguished critic and miscellaneous writer, was the son of a Unitarian clergyman of Shropshire, and was born on the 10th of April, 1778. After having received his academical education at the college in Hackney, in Middlesex, he commenced life as a painter, and by this means he gained an accurate knowledge of the principles of the arts. He, however, soon left the pencil for the pen, and, instead of painting pictures, it became his delight to criticise them. After having made various contributions to the periodical journals, he published an essay on the "Principles of Human Action," a work in which he displayed considerable ingenuity and acuteness. This was followed, in 1808, by two volumes in octavo, under the title of "The Eloquence of the British Senate," a selection of the best parliamentary speeches since the time of Charles I., with notes. In 1810, appeared his "New and Improved English Grammar, for the use of Schools," in which the discoveries of Mr. Horne Tooke, and other modern writers on the formation of language, are incorporated. In 1817, was published "The Round Table," a collection of Essays on Men, Literature, and Manners, which had previously appeared in the periodical called "The Examiner." These were subsequently succeeded by his "Characters of Shakspeare's Plays," a "View of the English Stage," and "Lectures on English Poetry," which he delivered at the Surrey Institution. After this appeared, from time to time, his contributions to various periodicals, under the titles of "Table Talk," the "Spirit of the Age," the "Plain Speaker," and the "Literature of the Elizabethan Age." His largest and most elaborate work is his "Life of Napoleon," in four volumes, which appeared in 1828: a production which has raised him to a very high rank among the philosophers and historians of the present age. Mr. Hazlitt also contributed many articles to the "Edinburgh Review," some of which possess extraordinary merit. He continued to write and publish till the year of his death, which took place on the 18th of September, 1830. The writings of Mr. Hazlitt display much originality and genius, united with great critical acuteness and brilliancy of fancy. In the fine arts, the drama, and dramatic literature, he was considered one of the ablest critics of the day. His essays are full of wisdom, and it is almost impossible to rise from a perusal of them without having gained some original and striking ideas, and most valuable thoughts. His "Characters of Shakspeare's Plays," and his "Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of Elizabeth," are among the most interesting and instructive books in English literature. His admiration for the writers of that period was intense, and he descants upon their beauties with the most eloquent and joyous enthusiasm. An able and discriminating writer thus speaks of him: "His mind resembles the 'rich strande' which Spenser has so nobly described, and to which he has himself likened the age of Elizabeth, where treasures of every description lie, without order, in inexhaustible profusion. Noble masses of exquisite marble are there, which might be fashioned to support a glorious temple; and gems of peerless lustre, which would adorn the holiest shrine. He has no lack of the deepest feeling, the profoundest sentiments of humanity, or the loftiest aspirations after ideal good. But there are no great leading principles of taste to give singleness to his aims, nor any central points in his mind, around which his feelings may revolve and his imaginations cluster." Allowing this to be true, there yet remains enough to constitute him one of the most tasteful, discriminating, and genial critics in the English language.2 THE LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. The age of Elizabeth was distinguished beyond, perhaps, any other in our history, by a number of great men, famous in different ways, and whose names have come down to us with unblemished honors statesmen, warriors, divines, scholars, poets, and philosophers: Raleigh, Drake, Coke, Hooker, and higher and more sounding still, and still more frequent in our mouths, Shakspeare, Spenser, Sidney, Bacon, Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher-men whom fame has eternized in her long and lasting scroll, and who, by their words and acts, were benefactors of their country, and ornaments of human nature. Their attainments of different kinds bore the same general stamp, and it was sterling: what they did had the mark of their age and country upon it. Perhaps the genius of Great Britain (if I may so speak without offence or flattery) never shone out fuller or brighter, or looked more like itself, than at this period. The first cause I shall mention, as contributing to this general effect, was the Reformation, which had just then taken place. This event gave a mighty impulse and increased activity to thought and inquiry, and agitated the inert mass of accumulated prejudices throughout Europe. The effect of the concussion was general; "Edinburgh Review," xxxiv. 440. 2 Read "Literary Remains of Mr. Hazlitt," &c., by E. L. Bulwer, 2 vols.; also articles upon his various works, in the "Edinburgh Review," xxviii. 72, and Ixiv. 395; and in the "London Quarterly," xvii. 174, xix. 424, and xxvi. 103; also, “American Quarterly," xx. 265. but the shock was greatest in this country. It toppled down the full-grown intolerable abuses of centuries at a blow; heaved the ground from under the feet of bigoted faith and slavish obedience; and the roar and dashing of opinions, loosened from their accustomed hold, might be heard like the noise of an angry sea, and has never yet subsided. Germany first broke the spell of misbegotten fear, and gave the watchword; but England joined the shout, and echoed it back, with her island voice, from her thousand cliffs and craggy shores, in a longer and a louder strain. With that cry, the genius of Great Britain rose, and threw down the gauntlet to the nations. There was a mighty fermentation: the waters were out; public opinion was in a state of projection. Liberty was held out to all to think and speak the truth. Men's brains were busy; their spirits stirring; their hearts full; and their hands not idle. Their eyes were opened to expect the greatest things, and their ears burned with curiosity and zeal to know the truth, that the truth might make them free. The death-blow which had been struck at scarlet vice and bloated hypocrisy loosened their tongues, and made the talismans and love-tokens of Popish superstition, with which she had beguiled her followers and committed abominations with the people, fall harmless from their necks. The translation of the Bible was the chief engine in the great work. It threw open, by a secret spring, the rich treasures of religion and morality, which had been there locked up as in a shrine. It revealed the visions of the prophets, and conveyed the lessons of inspired teachers to the meanest of the people. It gave them a common interest in a common cause. Their hearts burned within them as they read. It gave a mind to the people, by giving them common subjects of thought and feeling. It cemented their union of character and sentiment; it created endless diversity and collision of opinion. They found objects to employ their faculties, and a motive in the magnitude of the consequences attached to them, to exert the utmost eagerness in the pursuit of truth, and the most daring intrepidity in maintaining it. Religious controversy sharpens the understanding by the subtlety and remoteness of the topics it discusses, and embraces the will by their infinite importance. We perceive in the history of this period a nervous masculine intellect. No levity, no feebleness, no indifference; or, if there were, it is a relaxation from the intense activity which gives a tone to its general character. But there is a gravity approaching to piety; a seriousness of impression, a conscientious severity of argument, an habitual fervor and enthusiasm in their method of handling almost every subject. The debates of the schoolmen were sharp and subtle enough; but they wanted interest and grandeur, and were besides confined to a few: they did not affect the general mass of the community. But the Bible was thrown open to all ranks and condi tions "to run and read," with its wonderful table of contents from Genesis to the Revelation. Every village in England would present the scenes so well described in Burns's "Cotter's Saturday Night." I cannot think that all this variety and weight of knowledge could be thrown in all at once upon the minds of the people and not make some impression upon it, the traces of which might be discerned in the manners and literature of the age. For, to leave more disputable points, and take only the historical parts of the Old Testament, or the moral sentiments of the New, there is nothing like them in the power of exciting awe and admiration, or of riveting sympathy. We see what Milton has made of the account of the Creation, from the manner in which he has treated it, imbued and impregnated with the spirit of the time of which we speak. Or what is there equal (in that romantic interest and patriarchal simplicity which goes to the heart of a country, and rouses it, as it were, from its lair in wastes and wildernesses) to the story of Joseph and his Brethren, of Rachel and Laban, of Jacob's Dream, of Ruth and Boaz, the descriptions in the book of Job, the deliverance of the Jews out of Egypt, or the account of their captivity, and return from Babylon? There is, in all these parts of the Scripture, and numberless more of the same kind-to pass over the Orphic hymns of David, the prophetic denunciations of Isaiah, or the gorgeous visions of Ezekiel-an originality, a vastness of conception, a depth and tenderness of feeling, and a touching symplicity in the mode of narration, which he who does not feel need be made of no "penetrable stuff." There is something in the character of Christ too (leaving religious faith quite out of the question) of more sweetness and majesty, and more likely to work a change in the mind of man, by the contemplation of its idea alone, than any to be found in history, whether actual or feigned. This character is that of sublime humanity, such as was never seen on earth before, nor since. This shone manifestly both in his words and actions. We see it in his washing the disciples' feet the night before his death, that unspeakable instance of humility and love, above all art, all meanness, and all pride; and in the leave he took of them on that occasion: "My peace I give unto you, that peace which the world cannot give, give I unto you;" and in his last commandment, that "they should love one another." Who can read the account of his behavior on the cross, when, turning to his mother, he said, "Woman, behold thy son," and to the disciple John, "Behold thy mother," and "from that hour that disciple took her to his own home," without having his heart smote within him! We see it in his treatment of the woman taken in adultery, and in his excuse for the woman who poured precious ointment on his garment as an offering of devotion and love, which is here all in all. His religion was the religion of |