GEORGE SANDYS.

BORN 1577; died 1643.

THE principal works of this pious and learned writer are, his well-known volume of "Travels" in the East; his translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, and of the "Christus Patiens" of Grotius; and "A Paraphrase upon the Psalms of David, and upon the Hymns dispersed throughout the Old and New Testa

ments."

Among the many attempts which have been made to render the incomparable songs of the inspired lyrists into English metre, no other displays, equally with that of Sandys, the combination of poetry with terse and correct versification, and a strict adherence to the sense of the original. We are less inclined to charge Bishop Henry King, with the friendly use of a poetic license, in thus describing this translation

"Here David-as he could his skill transfer-
Speaks like himself by an interpreter :

Your muse rekindled hath the prophet's fire,

And tun'd the strings of his neglected lyre,”

than to lament that what he predicted respecting the permanence of its reputation, should have so signally failed of accomplishment:

"Nor need you fear the poet's common lot—

Read, and commended, and then quite forgot:
The brazen mines and marble rocks shall waste,
When your foundation shall unshaken last;
For ne'er was writer in oblivion hid,

Who firm'd his name on such a pyramid❞—

is a judgment in melancholy contrast with the present obscurity

of Sandys' able version.

SANDYS.

PSALM XIII.

How long! Lord, let me not
For ever be forgot!

How long, my God, wilt thou
Contract thy clouded brow!
How long in mind perplext
Shall I be daily vext!
How long shall he control,
Who persecutes my soul!
Consider, hear my cries;
Illuminate mine eyes;
Lest with exhausted breath
I ever sleep in death;

Lest my insulting foe
Boast in my overthrow;
And those who would destroy,
In my subversion joy.
But I, thou ever just,

Will in thy mercy trust;

And in thy saving grace
My constant comfort place:
My songs shall sing thy praise,
That hast prolong'd my days.

E

PSALM XX.

THE Lord in thy adversity
Regard thy cry;

Great Jacob's God with safety arm,
And shield from harm:

Help from his sanctuary send,

And out of Sion thee defend.

Thy odours, which pure flames consume

Be his perfume.

May he accept thy sacrifice,

Fir'd from the skies.

For ever thy endeavours bless,
And crown thy counsels with success.

We will of thy deliverance sing,

Triumphant King:

Our ensigns in that prayed-for day
With joy display;

Even in the name of God.

O still

May he thy just desires fulfil!

Now know I his anointed he

Will hear, and free;

With saving hand and mighty power,
From his high tower.

They trust in horse; in chariots those;
Our trust we in our God repose.

Their wounded limbs with anguish bend, To death descend:

But we in fervour of the fight

Have stood upright.

O save us, Lord; thy suppliants hear;
And in our aid, great King, appear.

PSALM XXVI.

LORD, judge my cause: thy piercing eye
Beholds my soul's integrity.
How can I fall,

When I, and all

My hopes on thee rely? Examine, try my reins and heart! Thou mercy's source, my object art; Nor from thy truth

Have I in youth,

Or will in age depart.

Men sold to sin offend my sight;
I hate the two-tongu'd hypocrite;

Those who devise

Malicious lies,

And in their crimes delight.

But will with hands immaculate,
And offerings at thy altar wait:

Thy praise disperse

In grateful verse;

Thy noble acts relate.

Thy house, in my esteem, excels;
The mansion where thy glory dwells.
My life O close

Not up with those,
Whose sins thy grace expels !

Who guiltless blood with pleasure spill; Subverting bribes their right-hands fill;