position, it cannot be that the poem, either in structure or expression, is the same as if the writer had not been subject to fits of insanity. It must be left here with the expression of uncertainty as to how far the poet was such a poet in spite of his madness, or on account of his madness; for we have high authority for believing that madness is often but an unsymmetrical growth of genius. PRAYER, PENITENCE, AND FAITH OF DAVID. Strong is the horse upon his speed; Strong is the lion-like a coal But stronger still in earth and air, Beauteous the fleet before the gale; Ranked arms and crested heads; And all the bloomy beds. Beauteous the moon full on the lawn; Beauteous, yea beauteous more than these, For man, beast, mute, the small and great, Precious the bounteous widow's mite; Precious the penitential tear; And precious are the winning flowers, More precious that diviner part Glorious the sun in mid career; Glorious the Almighty's outstretched arm: Glorious the northern lights astream; Glorious Hosannah from the den, Glorious the martyr's gore. Glorious-more glorious is the crown THE name of Thomas Chatterton, the precociously gifted boy who "perished in his pride," is one which points the most awful moral and adorns the shortest and most tragic tale in English literary history. Chatterton was the posthumous son of the master of the free school at Bristol, in which city he was born, November 20th, 1752. At fourteen he was apprenticed to an attorney; but obtained, after three years, release from an employment which was irksome to him. At the age of eleven he had written satirical poems of extraordinary vigour, regard being had to his youth and meagre educational advantages. At sixteen, he put forth several pieces written in archaic style, which he attributed to Rowley, a monk of the fifteenth century, and others; the MSS. of which he professed to have found in an old chest in the church of St. Mary Redcliffe. These writings were much canvassed; and their genuineness variously debated. The most remarkable of them was the poem entitled the "Bristowe Tragedie; or, the Dethe of Syr Charles Bawdin." Chatterton now repaired to London. His principles, whether political, moral, or religious, had the feeblest influence on his literary activity. An avowed readiness to write on both sides of any given question did not win him bread; and, after three days of starvation, he took poison, August 25th, 1770, whilst still a few months short of eighteen years of age. He lived and died with a lie in his right hand; but every generation has mourned over him as over a first-born cut down in mutiny and defiance. Ever since his death poetry has sought to do herself honour by bewailing him; and painting stepped in a few years ago to stir a nation's heart by a counterfeit presentment" of the ghastliness and desolation of his death. Chatterton excelled when he exhibited 66 He was both the quotations are from Coleridge's "Monody on the Death of Chatterton "-the "Sweet harper of time-shrouded minstrelsy." In putting off deceit, writing in his own person, he seemed to doff one half of his inspiration. THE RESIGNATION. O God, whose thunder shakes the sky; To Thee, my only rock, I fly, Thy mercy in thy justice praise. The mystic mazes of thy will, O teach me in the trying hour When anguish swells the dewy tear, If in this bosom aught but Thee Then why, my soul, dost thou complain? But, ah! my breast is human still; The sickness of my soul declare. The gloomy mantle of the night, Which God, my East, my Sun reveals. |