A deeper crimson mantled o'er her cheek, And soft as infancy her breath she drew.'-p. 28. Javan retires into the thicket, and laying aside his harp, plays upon a flute, an instrument here represented as his invention. At once obedient to the lip and hand, It uttered every feeling at command, Light o'er the stops his airy fingers flew, A spirit spoke in every tone they drew.' Zillah wakes and the sound continues still,-she rises and advances as if half expecting to see the object of her dream. It would be difficult to select from all the volumes of modern poetry any thing more truly beautiful, or more beautifully true, than the brief description which follows. "Time had but touch'd her form to finer Gave to the springing flower a chastened bloom, They meet, but Javan dares not make himself known, and womanly pride prevents her from appearing to recognize him : she therefore directs him to Enoch's dwelling in answer to his inquiry, and leaves him. Enoch knows him as soon as he appears, and falls upon his neck, exclaiming Oh! I have wept through many a night for thee, Strong was my faith; in dreams or waking thought, I deem'd thee living by this conscious sign, The hope which the patriarch had thus cherished had been strengthened by a voice which he had that day heard, telling him that ere the third morning his joy would be fulfilled, and his rest begun. That joy was not diminished by the knowledge that the hour of his own departure was now near at hand; and when Javan informs him of the Great King's approach, and his determination to lay waste the glen with fire and sword, and urges him and his kindred to seek shelter in the wilds, far to the south, Enoch with prophetic calmness replies: Here is mine earthly habitation, here I wait till my Redeemer shall appear; The day on which Javan has returned is the anniversary of the death of Adam, on which a sacrifice is offered, near his grave. The description of the burial-place is remarkable not only for its beauty, but also as an instance (perhaps unique) in which the customs of a peculiar sect have given a charm to poetry. It is a Moravian burying-ground,—a garden of the dead,-where -red and white with intermingling flowers The graves look'd beautiful in sun and showers; It breath'd of hope and moved the heart to prayer." After the sacrifice Javan goes to Zillah to avow himself. She receives him with reproaches, and when his pleading begins to prevail over pride and resentment, reminds him of the danger which is at hand, and that it is no season for earthly love. At midnight the glen is entered by the enemy, and all its dwellers borne away captives to the Great King. Thus far the narrative has been carried on continuously: the scene now changes, and the eighth canto opens with the song of a minstrel before the giant-king. His chiefs are sitting round him returned from the conquest of Eden, and flushed with new wine; and piles of cedar trees are blazing near, where human victims are offered in sacrifice. The minstrel relates in his song how the last army of Eden has been destroyed:-they had retired after their defeat into a thicket hoping to escape by swimming the river:-a chain of rafts cut off this hope; and the giants setting fire to the dry grass destroyed them by fire and sword, reserving for sacrifice those whom they saved in the water. The monarch hears him with apparent complacency; but his eyes are eagerly fixed upon the mount of Paradise.. "The giant panted with intense desire To scale those heights, and storm the walls of fire; Even now with Michael and his angels fought, And saw the seraphim, like meteors, driven Before his banners through the gates of Heaven, While he secure the glorious garden trod, And sway'd his sceptre from the mount of God.'-p. 50 The captive patriarchs are now brought before him he espies Javan and immediately orders him to be burnt and his ashes scat tered to the wind. Javan justifies himself for having returned to his native land; and declares that if he dies alone, he shall die rejoicing. Zillah then rushes forward, and a scene ensues which will remind the reader of Olindo and Sofronia: it is interrupted by the fosterfather of the giant-king, a necromancer, who had followed him like his evil genius through all his fortune, prompting him to new enterprises of blood and wickedness. He bids. him heap the pyres with fresh fuel and cast the patriarchs into the flames as a propitiatory sacrifice to the demons whom he serves. He then proceeds to defy the power of the Almighty, when, in the midst of his impiety, his nerves are stiffened, and he remains motionless as a statue. While the giants are gazing on him in dismay, Enoch stands forth from among the prisoners. At his awful countenace the tyrant shakes like Belshazzar when he sees the writing on the wall. He announces the punishment of the enchanter, who hears his sentence, and instantly begins to fulfil it by flying into the woods. He then addresses the tyrant, warns him that the next morning shall see his carcass a prey to the wolves; and concludes by telling him that the weakest of the faithful despises his power. The tyrant raises his sword to smite him, but Enoch walked with God and was not found. The giants then advance to storm the mount of Paradise. The poet has with great judgment prepared his readers for the catastrophe by describing the gathering of the elements in the former part of the scene. The storm begins, the wind drives sleet and hail in their faces, the earth rocks: - Red in the west the burning mount array'd (For moon and stars were wrapt in dunnest gloom) The giants are thrown into confusion, when cherubim on horses of fire attack the monstrous brood, and complete their overthrow. In the flight the tyrant is slain by the hand of one of his people. They who survive the wreck fly to their land; the patriarchs return to their glen and Javan with them, there to enjoy all the blessings that earth can bestow; a youth of penitence followed by an age of peace. Plutarch in his treatise on education uses an illustration which is equally applicable to a narrative poem: to render it successful, he says, three things are required, as in husbandry; first, that the soil be good; secondly, that the husbandman be skilful; lastly, that the seed be clean and well chosen: so should the subject of a poem be well adapted to the purposes of poetry, the poet versed in his art, and the incidents judiciously conceived. Of the Of the gen eral groundwork of The World before the Flood we have already spoken; and the es which have occurred in the course of our analysis are of such merit as to render any praise of the execution superfluous. There is less action in the poem than might have been expected in a drama, the title of which announces that the world is the theatre, and that the welfare of the whole human race is at stake. Had Mr. Montgomery chosen to enrich his web with mythological embroidery, the Rabbinical fables would have afforded him splendid materials: had he thought it expedient to shadow out the great events of the present times in his tale of the past, as Virgil and Spenser have done, a parallel to the tyranny of the giants and the frantic ambition of their blasphemous chief was before his eyes. Mr. Montgomery has preferred to give his work a pastoral and patriarchal character, thinking, perhaps, that if it lost in action, it would gain in beauty. The least successful portions of the work before us are, the second interview between Javan and Zillah, and the scene between them before the giant-king. This is the effect of rhyme, which, in our language, is ill adapted for the expression of dramatic eloquence or passion. The necromancer also, though he acts a conspicuous part in the story, is less impressive than he might have been. In his appearance he will remind the reader of the wizard in the Lady of the Lake, and the accidental resemblance is not fortunate. Having noticed what appears to us the feeblest part of the poem, it is equally our duty to instance what we think the best.. It is the fourth Canto, in which Enoch relates to Javan the death of Adam. The effect of his fall upon his own character is thus finely conceived: But deep remorse for that mysterious crime, Eve's early innocence, he shrunk afraid; Yet while he chid, compunctuous tears would start, 3 Children were his delight; they ran to meet in infant's eye;co As if he fell from innocence again.'—p. 63. On the anniversary of his fall he instructs Enoch to offer an annual sacrifice. On that same day he is struck for death. Eve, and Seth, and Enoch bear him to his home, and endeavour vainly to administer relief. Yet while his pangs grew sharper, more resign'd, But that which feels them most, and yet sustains. My God! my God! support me, or I fall!" At this time the sun sets amid crimson clouds. The winds rise, and a storm comes on accompanied with such convulsions of the earth as if the world were about to perish with the first Amidst this general sympathy of nature the sufferer continues to wrestle in prayer. What follows is the finest part of the whole poem, man. "THOU, of my faith the Author and the End! The joy, that once thy presence gave, restore That these, who witness my departing breath, 66 He closed his eye-lids with a tranquil smile, |