Middle Ages, and the Cretan Epimenides, all seem to have derived their somniferous being from that desire after a knowledge of approximating futurity which is inherent in human nature; that all-pervading self-consciousness of spiritual immortality, which, fully assured that it shall then be, longs also to be then capable of knowing the issues and effects of those things with whose embryo and early growth it has been conversant.

The pathos of the following lines few hearts can resist :

THE DEATH OF THE VIRTUOUS.

Sweet is the scene when virtue dies!
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes,

How gently heaves the expiring breast!

So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;

So dies a wave along the shore.
Triumphant shines the victor's brow,
Fanned by some angel's purple wing;
Where is, oh Grave, thy victory now?
And where, insidious Death, thy sting?
Farewell, conflicting joys and fears,

Where light and shade alternate dwell;
How bright the unchanging morn appears!
Farewell! inconstant world, farewell!

Its duty done, as sinks the clay,

Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,

Sweet is the scene when virtue dies!"

Many of her hymns are fine specimens of devotional poetry. In the first of them, which expresses only what philosophical deists of any age or country might feel, there are some admirable passages, and the four concluding lines are deeply impressive :

"Cease, cease your songs, the daring flight control,

Revere Him in the stillness of the soul;

With silent duty meekly bend before Him,

And deep within your inmost hearts adore Him."

The second is an able paraphrase of Habakkuk, iii. 17, 18:-" Although the fig-tree shall not blossom," &c.

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The third, For Easter Sunday,' if two half lines were expunged, would be altogether excellent. The objectionable words look like a guarded and subsequent interpolation of the sectarian Shibboleth. The devotional spirit, the faith, hope, and charity of the verses breathe essential Christianity. Few worshippers in the Established Church of England are unacquainted with the animating strain— ‘Again the Lord of Life and Light,”

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and fewer still suspect its origin, or detect its alterations. Her 4th hymn is likewise used in orthodox congregations, and contains only one suspicious phrase.

The 5th manifests a painful acquaintance with the besetting temptations of human life, and might serve as a song in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.' It has faults of omission, but is good as far as it goes.

The 6th, Pious Friendship,' is very beautiful:

"How blest the sacred tie that binds

In union sweet according minds!

How swift the heavenly course they run,
Whose hearts, whose faith and hope are one!

To each, the soul of each how dear,
What jealous love, what holy fear!
How doth the generous flame within
Refine from earth and cleanse from sin!

Their streaming tears together flow
For human guilt and mortal woe;
Their ardent prayers together rise,
Like mingling flames in sacrifice.

Together both they seek the place
Where God reveals his awful face;

How high, how strong, their raptures swell,
There's none but kindred souls can tell.

Nor shall the glowing flame expire
When nature droops her sickening fire;
Then shall they meet in realms above,
A heaven of joy -- because of love.”

The 7th, Come, said Jesus' sacred voice,' is a touching paraphrase of the Saviour's invitation to suffering and weary sinners.

The 8th hymn, 'Lo, where a crowd of pilgrims toil,' could have been written only by a person earnestly intent on passing through earthly probation to heaven. Dr. Priestley would certainly have disapproved of the line

"Our country is Emmanuel's land,"

for Mrs. Barbauld was much too well informed to use that name in ignorance of its meaning.

The 9th, Joy to the followers of the Lord!' is full of the heart's deep and seldom uttered experience of bodily affliction and spiritual peace, entering even into the martyr's tortures, when

The throbbing pulse beats high
To rapture mixed with agony.

A tenderer, softer, form it wears,
Dissolved in love, dissolved in tears,
When humble souls a Saviour greet,
And sinners clasp the mercy-seat.

'T is joy e'en here, a budding flower,
Struggling with snows, and storm, and shower,
And waits the moment to expand,
Transplanted to its native land."

The Pastoral Hymn, No. 10, Gentle Pilgrim, tell me why,' and the Sabbath Hymns 11 and 12, complete the series, which is unequalled in merit by any devotional poems of her female predecessors and contemporaries.

The Life, Letters, and Poems of Mrs. Barbauld incite and enforce the conviction that her own religious belief was in reality more scriptural and orthodox than the tenets usually held by her sect; that she did acknowledge the heinous guilt of sin in the heart's declension from God, did rely upon the Divine Atonement, and did experience that renovating influence of the Divine Spirit, which is

righteousness, peace, and joy immortal. Her essay entitled "Thoughts on the Devotional Tastes of Sects and Establishments,' is remarkable not only for its great ability, but for that glaring inconsistency between her doctrinal notions and her fervent devotional feelings, which runs through all her religious writings. Her heart could not receive the dogmas which her biassed mind adopted. Her notional religion was Unitarian, her experimental piety was Trinitarian, and true Christianity.

LADY ANNE BARNARD.

Lady Anne Lindsay, eldest daughter of James, fifth Earl of Balcarres, was born December 8, 1750, was married in 1793, to Sir Andrew Barnard, librarian to King George III., and died childless May 8, 1825.

Among the few poems which she wrote was the ballad of Auld Robin Gray,' which she composed, about the year 1771, to an ancient Scottish air. It became popular immediately, but Lady Anne kept her authorship a secret for fifty years, and then revealed it in a letter to a very suitable confessor, Sir Walter Scott. In the early days of Lady Anne the prevalence of female authorship in the middle classes had provoked aristocratic prejudices against it, and high-born women were considered to degrade themselves when assuming the position of those whom circumstances subjected to their patronage. Hence, doubtless, arose the motive for concealment; and to the change in public opinion wrought by the passing of half a century may probably be traced Lady Anne's final avowal.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

"When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,

And a' the warld to sleep are gane,

The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,

When my gudeman lies sound by me.

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his bride,
But saving a crown he had naething else beside;
To mak that crown a pund my Jamie gaed to sea,
And the crown and the pund were baith for me.

He hadna been awa a week but only twa,
When mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown awa,
My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea,
And auld Robin Gray cam' a courtin' me.

My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin,
I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna win,
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in his ee,
Said, Jenny, for their sakes, oh, marry me!

My heart it said Nay, for I looked for Jamie back,

But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wreck;
The ship it was a wreck,-why didna Jamie dee?

Or why do I live to say, Wae's me!

My father argued sair, my mother didna speak,

But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break,

Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was in the sea,

And auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me.

I hadna been a wife a week but only four,

When sitting sae mournfully at the door,

I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he,
Till he said, I've come back for to marry thee.

Oh, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say,
We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away,
I wish I were dead, but I'm no like to dee,
And why do I live to say, Wae's me!

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin,
I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin,
But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me."