Are convey'd hither from each night-born spring?*
With what loud rumours do the mountains ring,
Which in unusual pomp on tip-toes stand,
And, full of wonder, overlook the land?

Whence come these glitt'ring throngs, these meteors bright,
This golden people glancing in my sight?

Then find I true what long I wish'd in vain ;
My much-beloved prince is come again.

So unto them whose zenith is the pole,
When six black months are past, the sun doth roll:

So after tempest to sea-tossed wights
Far Helen's brothers shew their cheering lights:
So comes Arabia's wonder from her woods,
And far, far off is seen by Memphis' floods;
The feathered sylvans, cloud-like, by her fly,
And with triumphing plaudits beat the sky;
Nile marvels, Serap's priests entranced rave,
And in Mygdonian stone her shape engrave;
In lasting cedars they do mark the time,
In which Apollo's bird came to their clime.

To virgins flow'rs, to sun-burnt earth the rain,
To mariners fair winds amidst the main;
Cool shades to pilgrims, which hot glances burn,
Are not so pleasing as thy blest return."

We know not well how to close this volume, there are so many passages and poems that we have marked, as deserving particular notice; but we feel that we have already brought forward enough to awaken an interest in the reader to procure the work itself, and we will not, therefore, too far abridge the pleasure of its perusal.

One word at parting. It is impossible but the reader must have observed, that Milton was an early and attentive reader of Drummond; and it is probable, that his opinion first directed the attention of his nephew and scholar to our author. Phillips is generally believed to have been assisted by his uncle, or to have benefited by his judgment, in the Theatrum Poetarum

The folio, which professes to have made many corrections from a MS. of Drummond's, here reads "neighbouring spring;" but this is so wretchedly common place, that it is impossible to believe it other than a misprint.

Anglicanorum; and it is not impossible that we may collect something of Milton's opinion of our author, from the Preface to the edition of 1656, written by his nephew, then a very If this conjecture should be true, it would, inyoung man. deed, be highly complimentary. "His poems," says Phillips, "are the effects of a genius the most polite and verdant that ever the Scotch nation produced. If I should also affirm, that neither Tasso, nor Guarini, nor any of the most neat and refined spirits of Italy, nor even the choicest of our English poets, can challenge any advantage above him; it could not be judged any attribute superior to what he deserves. And for his history, had there been nothing else extant of his writings, consider but the language, how florid and ornate it is-consider the order, and the prudent conduct of the story, and you will rank him in the number of the best writers; and compare him even with Thuanus himself. Neither is he less happy in his verse than prose; for here are all those graces met together, that conduce any thing towards the making up a complete and perfect poet; a decent and becoming majesty, a brave and admirable height, and a wit so flowing, that Jove himself never drank nectar that sparkled with a more sprightly lustre." There is also, among the commendatory poems prefixed to the folio, probably from the same work, one by the same writer; and as the reader may be anxious to see a poem by the nephew and scholar of Milton, we shall close this review with it, upon the incomparable poems of Mr. William Drummond.

"To praise these poems well, there doth require
The self same spirit, and that sacred fire

That first inspired them; yet I cannot chuse
But pay an admiration to a muse

That sings such handsome things; never brake forth,
From climes so near the Bear, so bright a worth;
And, I believe, the Caledonian bow'rs

Are full as pleasant and as rich in flow'rs,

As Tempe's ere was fam'd, since they have nourish'd
A wit the most sublime that ever flourish'd;
There's nothing cold, or frozen, here contain'd,
Nothing that's harsh, unpolish'd, or constrain'd,
But such an ardour as creates the spring,
And throws a chearfulness on every thing;
Such a sweet calmness runs through every verse,
As shews how he delighted to converse
With silence, and his muse, among those shades
Which care, nor busy tumult ere invades ;

There would he oft, the adventures of his loves
Relate unto the fountains, and the groves,
In such a strain as Laura had admir'd

Her Petrarch more, had he been so inspir'd.
Some Phobus gives a smooth and streaming vein,
A great and happy fancy some attain,

Others unto a soaring height he lifts;

But here he hath so crowded all his gifts,
As if he had in one design'd to try
To what a pitch he could bring poetry;
For every grace should he receive a crown,
There were not bays enough in Helicon :
Fame courts his verse, and with immortal wings
Hovers about his monument, and brings
A deathless trophy to his memory;

Who, for such honour, would not wish to die?
Never could any times afford a story,

Of one so match'd unto great Sidney's glory;
Of fame so well divided, as between
Penshurst's renowned shades, and Hawthornden.

EDW. PHILLIPS."

ART. IX-La morale Pratique des Jesuites où elle est representée en plusieurs Histoires, arrivées dans toutes les Parties du Monde. 2 tom. 1683.

Histoire impartiale des Jesuites depuis leur établissement jusqu' á leur premiere Expulsion. 2 tom. 1768.

Our object, in this paper, will be, to inquire into the conduct of the Society of Jesus, from its foundation to the end of the sixteenth century, to ascertain, as far as possible, the cause of the powerful resistance which was made to its establishment, and to examine into the truth of some of the accusations laid to its charge. That the introduction of a religious order should be opposed in countries acknowledging the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff, sanctioned as it was by his authority, whilst other orders were admitted, not only with facility, but with approbation, must either be attributed to something peculiar in the laws or doctrines of the Society, or

in the conduct of the people who composed it. In all controversies, whether political or religious, with which the tranquillity of the world has been disturbed, there never were witnessed any in which so much virulence was displayed, so much of that consuming zeal with which disagreements on unimportant and trifling points of religion have generally been accompanied, so much of calumny and misrepresentation as those in which the Jesuits have been engaged.

Never was a period more favourable to the foundation of a new order, than the middle of the sixteenth century, the leaven of heretical opinions had excited the reverend old ladies of Rome into a dreadful fermentation,-the lazy monks were unfit soldiers to oppose the formidable enemies of the church, armed, as they were, with reason and common sense, which had long been banished the cloisters, if, indeed, they were ever found there, -new continents had been discovered,-costly merchandize and glittering ingots had followed the discoverers into Europe, and larger expectations had been awakened in the adventurous and the avaricious. Some of the mendicants, in their pious and disinterested zeal for the good of the church, had already been induced, in despite of their natural inactivity, to pass the seas, in order to ascertain the verity of the marvellous reports which had been diffused of the transmarine treasures. In this state of excitement of the inhabitants of different countries in Europe, whilst adventures and undertakings of various kinds were proceeding; when new fields of exertion had opened to the professors of Christianity, the Jesuits arose, and certainly, unless some very powerful motives had influenced the other members of the same church to their prejudice, their establishment would have excited no attention, and encountered no opposition. From what causes, then, sprung their hostility to the new order?-We think we shall be able to afford a solution of this question, in pointing out the difference between the constitution and government of this Society and those of the other orders, over which the former undoubtedly possessed a singular advantage.

And first, with respect to the absolute power of the General, to whom the whole Society vowed a blind submission, on whom, as we have shewn in a former article, they absolutely depended, and who was the sole executive who directed the motions of his subjects. The constitution of their order was such-the authority of the General so complete, that room was hardly left for the operation of individual interest; whilst, in the other orders, the General had a less extensive authority; the other superiors preserved a more direct controul over their immediate subjects, and being elected by the Society at large, and changed at given periods, they were less dependent

on their General. Hence, schemes and intrigues for promotion were more common, and jealousy and envy and ambition more busy amongst them. Another advantage which the Jesuits possessed over their brethren, was the power which they retained of dismissing such of their novices and members as were considered unfit, either from want of talent, want of discretion, or want of knowledge for the services of the Society. With such a power of selection, they insured agents, upon whom they could place implicit dependence for secrecy, talent, and despatch. And, lastly, they possessed an immense advantage in their exemption from the performance of the public offices of religion; for the monks were engaged from "morn to dewy eve," in mumbling Latin prayers, and performing other offices of monastic obedience, which was brought to such perfection, that it is related of an eastern ascetic, that, being summoned in the usual way to some pious exercise whilst he was in the act of writing, he had brought his habits to such a mechanical precision, that he actually left a letter half-formed to go to it. From all such useless duties, which neither made the agents wiser nor better, but which, on the other hand, disqualified them from attaining anything useful in knowledge, or executing anything beneficial to their species, the Jesuits were exempt. They were only bound to perform them when their other avocations would allow; in other words, at such times as suited their own convenience, or forwarded their views. How differently the Jesuits employed their time, is apparent from the result of their different exertions; whilst the Jesuits have produced a great variety of valuable works in science and elegant literature, all the other orders put together have hardly produced a work whose very name has not sunk into the mass of things forgotten. The vow of obedience to the Pope, too, although taken by other orders, was, from the nature of their government, carried further by the Jesuits, and became, indeed, their peculiar charac teristic;-they carried into execution that vow, which, in the others, was merely formal. Their superiority gave them a great preponderance in society--a superiority allowed by the laymen, but denied by the ecclesiastics: the Dominicans and others, who had been the supporters of the Papacy, considered themselves still equal to its defence, and they were indignant at the intrusion into their province, of men, to whom so much consideration was attached, and to whom they could not help feeling themselves inferior. These things, while they account for the opposition which was made to the Society, by the monks, explain, also, the cause of their success. The foundation of the hostility of the bishops and dignified clergy and of the Universities we shall investigate when we come to the recep