of an art which, as associating all that most effectively acts upon the heart and imagination, is better calculated than any other for forcibly and durably impressing on the universal mind the great and unchangeable truths of practical morality.

There seems a reluctancy, on the part of Quaker Poets, towards adopting the more popular and exciting departments of the art, those for instance of Epic and Dramatic incident. They have almost invariably confined themselves to the province of miscellaneous poetry, nor does Mr. Barton's volume form an exception. It contains a vast variety of short but interesting pieces on some of the most momentous topics and occurrences which agitate the human heart and feelings. Among these are two which seem more strictly devoted to the consideration of opinions and observances peculiar to the Author's sect, than any other in the collection. They are entitled, "Verses supposed to be written in a Burial Ground belonging to the Society of Friends," and "Silent Worship." The first is a defence of their omission of epitaphs and tomb-stones, as tending to keep alive useless and enfeebling regret; and the second a vindication of, or rather an eulogium on, that doctrine which, attributing every thing to the immediate influence of the Spirit, waives all form and ritual, and oral communication, as nugatory and superfluous. With regard to the former, however, it should be observed, that a record of the dead, if his virtues were such as to merit recordal, is usually entered in the minutes of the monthly meeting to which he belonged; and as to the latter, though we of the established church are accustomed to a more social and less abstracted mode of worship; yet, it must be confessed, that the system of a silent and altogether spiritual worship, as founded on the doctrine of an assigned portion of the spirit of God to each individual, as a sure and primary guide, is both philosophical and beautiful.

There are various passages also interspersed through the volume, which very eloquently plead in favour of other and equally striking peculiarities of Quakerism. But there is one distinction which, as conferring the highest honour on the members of this Sect, I cannot permit myself to pass in silence; it is their total freedom from the spirit of persecution, an exemption which, when we consider how often religion has been disgraced, and humanity outraged, by a contrary line of conduct, should call forth unqualified praise. This is a lovely and invaluable feature of Quakerism. On this plan of reposing exclusively on the es

sentials of pure and practical Christianity, the Quakers have sought to distinguish themselves among their European brethren; and it is upon the same plan, though modified according to circumstances, that they have regulated their religious intercourse with the Indians of America, endeavouring, in the first place, and as introductory to the leading facts of Revelation, to point out the identity of their respective creeds as to the great and everlasting truths of Natural Theology.

In a volume including nearly eighty pieces on widely different subjects, it cannot be expected that all should equally attract attention, or gratify the expectations of the reader. But it is due to Mr. Barton to declare, that no trifling topic has been admitted; that what has occupied his pen comes home to our business and our bosoms; and that, like Goldsmith, he has seldom touched on a theme which he has not rendered more striking, either by vigour of thought or beauty of expression. Nullum quod tetigit, non ornavit. The versification is usually of the lyric or elegiac cast, but there are not wanting several specimens of the Spenserian stanza, in which the author seems to move with uncommon ease and dignity. The leading character of his poetry is not that which can be properly designated by the epithet descriptive; yet scattered over every portion of the work is to be found IMAGERY vigorously conceived, and distinctly and vividly brought out.

SENTIMENT, in the best and noblest acceptation of the term, as including many of the most awful and interesting truths which belong both to our present and our future state of existence, and expressed with a simplicity which endears all that it wishes to enforce, forms the prominent feature of Mr. Barton's book. It treats of feelings which prepare the heart as well for the proper enjoyment of what is truly valuable on earth, as for that more perfect happiness which may await us in another world. It is, indeed, by this bond of similarity, that the present life becomes indissolubly connected with that better one which is to follow; for the emotions which have sprung here from a just contemplation of the beauties and beneficence of creation, shall not die; they will live beyond the forms to which they owe their birth. This doctrine, as involving some of the highest speculations that relate to matter and spirit, to their union here, and their existence hereafter, has given to many parts of his composition an awfully impressive tone, a high degree, in fact, of ethic sublimity.

Of the sublimely moral and intellectual lessons, which are derived from the glorious forms of external nature, the collection of Mr. Barton presents us with many happy examples. His address "To the Moon," a subject though apparently exhausted, he has rendered interesting by fresh trains of imagery, and by that delightful tone of moral inference which has given to nearly the whole of his compositions a kind of pensive dominion over the purest and gentlest affections of the heart. A theme of still greater sublimity, as productive of many of those indefinable emotions which thrill through our bosoms in the presence of mysterious and illimitable power, opens upon us in our author's address "To the Winds," written, I understand, in a dark winter's night, and when the storm was high enough to "murder sleep." But of all the objects which nature presents to our view, there is none comparable, in point of grandeur and sublimity, to the ocean. Whether beheld in a state of quiescence, or under the aspect of commotion, it is alike productive of thoughts which agitate and dilate the soul with awe, and fear, and wonder. To express the feelings and conceptions to which such an object and its associations lead; must be, even to the most exalted talent, a work of difficulty and danger. It has notwithstanding been attempted by many, but as might be concluded, by few with success. Among the number, however, who have risen from the effort undefeated, we may now enroll the name of Barton, whose poem entitled "The Sea," is one of the most beautiful in his collection and it has given the impression of this magnificent element on the mind, with a truth and energy of feeling which have seldom been surpassed.

Nor has Mr. Barton restricted himself to the works of Nature; those of Man have alike contributed to call forth the energies of his mind and the moral painting of his Muse. To a contemplative disposition, indeed, few objects afford more appropriate gratification than the mouldering reliques of departed grandeur. There is a silent language in their desolation which reaches to the heart, and we bow before the spirit of the times of old, humiliated, but rendered better by the awful voice of other years. The poem entitled "Leiston Abbey" has a claim to peculiar distinction, and as possessing striking proofs of the happy art with which the poet has blended the most delightful imagery with the most touching morality.

Of the pure and lofty character of genuine poetry, of the great and important duties it is calculated to subserve, and of the high

gratifications it has the means of conferring, Mr. Barton has himself spoken, and in terms which, while they paint with glowing enthusiasm the sublimely moral features of the Muse, feelingly and most expressively describe the consolations which await on him who has worshipped her aright, and who has consequently directed her powers to their legitimate end. The wish, with which his poem published separately last year, and entitled "A Day in Autumn," will, I am confident, not remain unfulfilled; that his poetry will live in the bosoms of the wise and good, and that it will descend to a distant and approving posterity. 'I ask no laurels o'er my turf to wave,

But, when the sun of my brief day be set,

I would not so all softer ties out-brave

As not to wish, when those I love be met,

For me that cheeks be wan, and eyes with sorrow wet.
And should some portion of my song survive

The death of him who frames it; may it be

Such only as may keep his name alive

In hearts of spotless moral purity,

Of virtuous feeling, gentle sympathy,

And elevated thoughts ;-such have I known :--

May these but cherish my lov'd memory

In some few silent hours, when left alone,

And "fame's obstreperous trump," I willingly disown.'

[From "Evenings in Autumn, a Series of Essays, Narrative and Miscellaneous. By NATHAN DRAKE, M. D., Author of Literary Hours,' Essays on Periodical Literature,' Shakspeare and his Times, and Winter Nights.' "London, 1822.]

ART. 28.-Yamoyden. A Tale of the Wars of King Philip. By the late Rev. JAMES WALLIS EASTBURN, and his Friend. NewYork. 1820.

Smit with the love of "bardic lore" we came,

And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;

Thus mix'd our studies, and thus join'd our name.-POPE.

THE progress of American literature cannot but be an object of deep interest and generous exultation to every Briton who knows how to place a due value on the glory resulting to his country from the propagation of her language, and her letters; for it is, as I have elsewhere observed, a most delightful consideration, and one which should excite amongst our authors an increased spirit of emulation, that the language of England is destined to be that of so large a portion of the new world.

What a field, in fact, for the diffusion and durability of our literary fame, does such a prospect hold forth, and how rationally may we credit the representation of Mr. Morgan, who, alluding to the epithet barbarian, bestowed on our immortal Shakspeare by the foolish petulance of Voltaire, thus eloquently, and, I have no doubt, prophetically, declares, that "when the very name of Voltaire, and perhaps the memory of the language in which he has written, shall be no more, the Apalachian mountains, the banks of the Ohio, and the plains of Sciota, shall resound with the accents of this barbarian: In his native tongue he shall roll the genuine passions of nature; nor shall the griefs of Lear be alleviated, nor the charms and wit of Rosalind be abated, by time."-(Essay on Falstaff.)

Whatever therefore intimates the advancement of North America in letters, taste, and genius, ought to be received by us with peculiar pride and pleasure, as an earnest that at no very distant period a competition for literary glory may exist between the transatlantic writers in our tongue, and those of the parent country; and that in the bosom of remote ages, when, in obedience to those changes which attach to every earthly power, the empire of Great Britain shall have passed away, her language shall be spoken and her literature shall live, with undecaying vigour, in the vast and almost boundless regions of the great western continent.

I have been led into these reflections in consequence of having very lately received a small packet from New-York, containing two volumes, which appear to me to place in a very favourable point of view the progress which poetry has been making in the United States. They were accompanied by a letter, which throws considerable light on the life and character of one of the writers of the included productions, (Mr. J. W. Eastburn.)

Of the manner in which "Yamoyden" was composed, the Editor, and Coadjutor in the poem, has furnished us with the following detail in an advertisement: [which is quoted as given in our No. 5 of the Repository, p. 53.]

We are further told in this advertisement, which is dated Nov. 20th, 1820, that the work was commenced without any preparatory reading; that from this cause, and the hasty mode of its composition, both the fable and the execution were imperfect, and that, when the Editor was induced to undertake the correction of the manuscript, though his labour in so doing had