Zeal, Hypocrisy, Malice, and all inhuman affections. The poet seems chiefly solicitous to prohibit Love. Of him and his intrusion he appears particularly apprehensive. Yet in the confidence of his present mood, he would disguise his apprehensions, and treats this formidable adversary, not only with defiance, but with contempt. But chiefly Love-Love far off fly, 'Tis not for thee, capricious power, The action proceeds. The poet attends to solemn objects; engages in important inquiries; considers the diversified condition of human life; dwells on the ample provision made by nature for human happiness; dwells on the happiness of social affections; is thus led imperceptibly to think of love; mentions Monimia, and relapses. Ah me! What, helpless have I said? He makes another effort, but with equal success; he makes another, and another; he will exalt his mind by acts of devotion, or plunge into the gloom of melancholy. But the influences of the predominant passion still return to the charge, and restore their object; on the heights of devotion, or in the shades of melancholy, he still meets with Monimia. Such is the progress of the poem: and in the conclusion, we have an interesting view of the poet, yielding to his adversary, but striving to be resigned. Pass but some fleeting moments o'er, This rebel heart shall beat no more, &c. The justness of the poet's sentiments is next to be mentioned. He illustrates the power of habituated passion over reason and reflection. Farther, he illustrates, that, though the attention be engaged with objects of the most opposite kind to that of the reigning passion, yet still it returns. He shows, too, that this happens, notwithstanding the most determined resolutions and purposes to the contrary. All this he does not formally, but by ingenious and indirect insinuation. He also illustrates a curious process in the conduct of our intellectual powers, when under the dominion of strong emotion. He shows the manner by which prevailing passions influence our thoughts in the association of ideas: that they do not throw their objects upon the mind abruptly, or without coherence, but proceed by a regular progress: for that how different soever ideas or objects may be from one another, the prevailing or habituated passion renders the mind acute in discerning among them common qualities, or circumstances of agreement or correspondence, otherwise latent or not obvious: that these common qualities are dexterously used by the mind, as uniting links, or means of transition; and that thus, not incoherently, but by the natural connexion most commonly of resemblance, the ruling passion brings its own objects to the fore ground, and into perfect view. Thus our poet, in the progress of his action, has recourse to friendship. He dwells on the happiness that connexion bestows; he wishes for a faithful friend; his imagination figures such a person, In whose soft and gentle breast His weary soul may take her rest; and then, by easy transition, invests this friend with a female form, with the form of Monimia: Grant Heaven, if Heaven means bliss for me, In like manner having recourse to devotion in a spirit of rational piety, he solicits the aid of Heaven to render him virtuous. He personifies Virtue; places her in a triumphal car, attended by a suitable train; one of her attendants, a female distinguished by high pre-eminence, must also be distinguished by superior beauty, must resemble the fairest of human beings, must resemble Monimia: While chief in beauty, as in place, She charms with dear Monimia's grace. O! fatal name; O dubious strain, &c. Far off the glorious rapture flown, Monimia rages here alone. In vain, Love's fugitive I try From the commanding power to fly, &c.- But the deaf adder still disdains To listen to the charmer's strains. The whole poem illustrates the difficulty and necessity of governing our thoughts no less than our passions. In enumerating the most remarkable qualities in Hamilton's poetical works, besides regularity of design, and justness of thought or sentiment, I mentioned fanciful invention; and of this particular I shall, in like manner, offer some illustration. Fanciful invention is, in truth, the quality that, of all others, distinguishes, and is chiefly characteristic of poetical composition. The beauties of design, sentiment, and language, belong to every kind of fine writing: but invention alone creates the poet, and is a term nearly of the same signification with poetical genius. A poet is said to have more or less genius according to his powers of fancy or invention. That Hamilton possesses a considerable portion of this talent is manifest in many of his compositions, and particularly so in his Contemplation. This appears evident from some passages already quoted. But, though our poet possesses powers of invention, he is not endowed with all the powers of invention, nor with those of every kind. His genius seems qualified for describing more beautiful scenes and objects of external nature, and for delineating with the embellishments of allegory some passions and affections of the human mind. Still, however, his imagination is employed among beautiful and engaging, rather than among awful and magnificent images; and even when he presents us with dignified objects, he is more grave than lofty, more solemn than sublime, as in the following passage: Now see! the spreading gates unfold, And cautious tread, with awful fear, It was also said, that our poet possessed pleasing sensibility. It is not asserted that he displays those vehement tumults and ecstacies of passion, that belong to the higher kinds of lyric and dramatic composition. He is not shaken with excessive rage, nor melted with overwhelming sorrow; yet, when he treats of grave or affecting subjects, he expresses a plaintive and engaging softness. He is never violent and abrupt, and is more tender than pathetic. Perhaps the Braes of Yarrow,' one of the finest ballads ever written, may put in a claim to superior distinction. But even with this exception, I should think our poet more remarkable for engaging tenderness, than for deep and affecting pathos. Of this his epitaph, beginning with Could this fair marble,' affords illustration. In like manner, when he expresses joyful sentiments, or describes scenes and objects of festivity, which he does very often, he displays good humour and easy cheerfulness, rather than the transports of mirth or the brilliancy of wit. In one of the best of his poems addressed to Lady Mary Montgomery, he adorns sprightliness of thought, graceful ease, and good humour, with corresponding language and numbers. In this performance a number of female characters are described in the liveliest manner, characterised with judgment, and distinguished with acute discernment. Thus, in the following indirect description, we have the dignity of female excellence: Heavenly Charlotte, form divine, |