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Vindication of Remarks on Passages of Scripture.

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must be restricted to the disciples, for they heard his voice and followed him, v. 27. We have, also, good reasons to believe that some of those whom our Lord excluded from the number of the given, were afterwards prayed for among the persons who should believe through the Apostles' word, for many of the priests became obedient to the faith, Acts vi. 7.

4 on a few passages of sacred writ, proceed, in the next place, more particularly to examine the objections which he brings against my exposition of those and other passages of scripture. That the way may be freed of all obstructions, it is necessary for me to remark, that the drift of my reasoning was to prove, that the word give, as used in its different modifications by the apostle John, in his Gos- There are but two more passages pel, was not intended, as many think, (John vi. 37, 39.) that belong to the to convey to the minds of our Lord's class which has been under examinahearers, or of the apostle's readers, tion. Rather greater disculty exists the idea of an eternal gift of a certain in ascertaining, from the scope and number to Jesus Christ, in order to connection, the meaning and applicabe, by him, specially redeemed and tion of these two passages, than does eternally saved. In the course of elu- in reference to the others. From cereidation. I also endeavoured to make tain circumstances, such as, the same it appear, that the persons prayed for speaker, the same writer, the same in the 17th chapter of John's Gospel, persons directly or indiretly con as having been given by the Father to cerned, we may reasonably inert, a the Son, were our Lord's disciples less sufficient evidence be adduced to only. Against this opinion, your cor- the contrary, that the same applicarespondent enters his protest. He tion takes place here as in the other maintains, that the words give, giretà, places already dismissed. The on&e. ought not to be restricted to the nection, in my opinion, WAENDS be apostles, but ought to be applied to application. The two passarts grad believers in all ages. As for the doe-connected as fobos: - Then sal trine of eternal election, he seems to have entirely lost sight of it. That he cannot consistently ground it on the passages in question, is evident, for he says, the apostles were given to Jesus by the agency of the Spirit.". Hence it follows, that they were not given from eternity. It is also equally evident, that our Lord prayed for mone but his disciples in John xvi. 2. 49. 11. 12. for if none are given to Jesus but by the agency of theSpirit. then none, at the use our Lord prayed, had been given to him but his dores: sequendly the words ge, geth, &c. were not spoken of all believers in all ages

they unto him, Lord, eshire Live as this bread. And Jesus sue wit them. I am the bread of le. he dut cometh to me," by the up is eross and following me as a disple

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Vindication of Remarks on Passages of Scripture.

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been previously prepared by a belief to the Apostles. On my principles, of him as the promised Messiah. That the word you is, indeed, as much this is the meaning of the passage, limited to the Apostles, as the words appears evident to me, from the sub- give, giveth, &c. are to Christ's discisequent verse, viz. "It is written in ples: but it does not follow, that the the prophets, (Isa. liv. 3, 13. Jer. atonement is to be limited to the Aposxxxi. 33, 34.) And they shall be all tles, no more than the resurrection is taught of God." On turning to the to be restricted to the disciples, John prophets, we find, that the promise vi. 39. Further, we should not have was given to the Jewish church exclu- known, from these words, "this is my sively. The prophecy is also explained body which is given for you," that by our Lord himself, in the words im- Christ died for more than the Apostles, mediately following: "Every man, but we learn from other parts of scriptherefore, that hath heard and hath ture, that Christ tasted death for everg learned of the Father, cometh unto man-that he gave himself a ransom me." But who came unto him in the for all-that he is the propitiation for days of his flesh, but Jews? wherefore the sins of the whole world. Now let none but Jews had heard and learned H. B. come forward, and shew us, in of the Father, or in other words, had what place of the New Tesiament it been drawn of the Father, and given is written, that any but the disciples to the Son. were given to Christ. This I suspect he cannot do; and consequently he must fail in the accomplishment of the task which he is willing to impose on himself. He is, perhaps, ready to refer me to the second Psalm, in which a promise is made, that the heathen should be given to Christ for an inheritance. But it is evident, that this is a gift essentially different in nature from that for which your correspondent contends. It was by virtue of this gift that the Apostles were commanded to preach the gospel to every creature. The heathen were given, as heathen, for the purpose of being brought into the fold of Christ, and of becoming the subjects of his mediatorial kingdom.

My opponent asserts, that if our Lord had meant no Jew by the words no man, (or the word none,) he would have said so. I reply, there are numerous instances, both in the gospels and in the epistles, in which a general term has a particular meaning. But to come closer to the point in hand, the words every man in verse 45, according to my opinion, mean every Jew. The grounds of my belief are given in the foregoing remarks. If then, every man mean every Jew, why may not no man also mean no Jew? But further, the words every man in verse 45, and no man in verse 44, positively and negatively refer to the same individual; consequently, if every man signify every Jew, so also no man Your correspondent defends the use must signify no Jew. The argument of shall instead of will in the following which H. B. adduces, is a mere asser- passage; "All that the Father giveth tion without proof; for he says, "If me shall come to me:" (John vi. 37.) this passage" (No man, &c. v. 44) "is but his defence is so weak, that I confined to those only who were his should be ashamed to lay hands on it. followers, there would be no difficulty It is obvious to the most superficial in proving that all his doctrines and reader, that the subject agitated by precepts, yea, even his atonement our Lord, was not, whether those and mediation, should be understood given to him would come, for the n in the same limited sense." This sup- shall would have been necessary, but poses, that same kind of proof can whether any would come but thos be adduc supposed instances that were given to him. In the pro. as is in and also, that if ceding chapter, our Lord charged his ed in one place audience with unwillingness to come disproved in to him, by saying, "Ye will not com ake of trial, to me, that ye may have life," v. 4). tonement. In the subsequent verses be assign isciples, the reason why they would not come to en for him, viz. the disposition which led you," them to disbelieve Moses, and to 1on ceive honour one of another, in the

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Vindication of Lord Byron's Poetry.

cantos of Don Juan with the works of Swift. There is nothing in them which presents our nature in so degraded and disgusting a point of view as the latter laboured to place it in; yet he was a dignitary of the church, and of unimpeached character, And why not allow his jest to Lord Byron? Those who are acquainted with his predecessors in this vineyard, will be inclined to think that he has not exerted his powers in a very outrageous manner."

As a proof that I have not too highly estimated Lord Byron's poetry, I submit the following extracts to the notice of your readers. And, first, look at his exquisite delineation of Henry Kirke White.

Unhappy White! while life was in its spring, And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing,

The spoiler swept that soaring lyre away
Which clse had sounded an immortal lay.
Oh what a noble heart was here undone,
When science' self destroyed her fav'rite son!
'Twas thine own genius gave the fatal blow
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee
low.

Thus the struck eagle stretch'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather in the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his
heart;

Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel
He nurs'd the pinion which impell'd the steel;
While the same plumage that had warm'd his
nest

Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast."

English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.

His Lordship's verses on the Death of the Princess Charlotte are too long to quote: the following portion of them will evince their excellence.

"Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds, A long, low, distant murmur of dread sound, Such as arises when a nation bleeds

With some deep and immedicable wound. Through storm and darkness, yawns the rending ground,

The gulf is thick with phantoms; but the chief Seems royal still, though with her head dis

crown'd,

And pale, but lovely, with maternal grief
She clasps a babe, to whom her heart yields

no relief.

Scion of chiefs and monarchs! where art thou?
Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead!
Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low
Some less majestic, less beloved head?
Those who weep not for kings shall weep for
thee !"

Childe Harold, Canto IV.

The following lines on Female Beauty, I confidently submit to the approbation of every admirer of THAT SEX which heightens all man's joys, alleviates all his sorrows, and throws a celestial halo over "this visible diurnal sphere."

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"Who hath not prov'd how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of Beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might-the majesty of loveliness?
Such was Zuleika-such around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone;
The mind-the music breathing from her face,
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The heart whose softness harmonized the
And oh! that eye was in itself a soul !"
Bride of Abydos.

whole

Your limits,Sir,have long since warned me to desist. I will therefore only refer to Lord Byron's exquisite Hebrew Melodies; Napoleon's Farewell; The Ode, commencing "Oh shame to thee, land of the Gaul;" the brilliant burning Ode on the Star of the Legion of Honour; and the beautiful song begin. ning "Maid of Athens, ere we part." I conclude these extracts by giving one of his Lordship's minor poems.

To

"Bright be the place of thy soul!
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control

In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be;
And our sorrow may cease to repine,
When we know that thy God is with thee.
Light be the turf of thy tomb!

May its verdure like emeralds be:
There should not be the shadow of gloom
In aught that reminds us of thee.
Young flowers and an evergreen tree
May spring from the spot of thy rest:
But not cypress nor yew let us see,

For, why should we mourn for the blest?"
Now, Mr. Editor, I would triumph-
antly ask, Can such a writer "decline”
in the estimation of those "whose ap-
probation is worth having?” Oh no!
surely every reader will exclaim with

me,

"His words are sparks of immortality.”

The Edinburgh Review first assailed
Lord Byron; but it long since made
the amende honorable. From G. J.'s
good sense and candour, I expect
that he will "go, and do likewise.”

I trust I have now proved, Sir, that
"Wordsworth's poems and his followers,

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Edwin and Mary, like Paul and Virginia, were often nursed on the same breast: like them too, their love grew with their yearsThey had but one heart and one hope, and that hope was sacred, but it was doomed never to be realized.

Mary was an angel, at least he thought so. Edwin was her equal every way but in fortune, a disparity which her parents urged against their union.

To remove the objection, Edwin turned his eye to India, and, big with the hope of a speedy return, left his dear Mary. But in passing into another clime, he passed into another world. The news of Edwin's death was the date of Mary's misery-reason overpowered, ceased to reign. Dead to the world and all its ties, she clung to solitude. Thus the Maniac is now ushered in, on one of those rocks which guard the sea-girt coasts of Caledonia. A sad example of that destiny which too often awaits the most amiable of passions and the best of hearts.

SOUND, my Mary, be thy sleep,
For thy woes my feelings weep;
Sore it grieves me, seeing now
Sorrow stamp'd upon thy brow.—
Cares unceasing, thee pursue,
Fraught with bitter ills to you.

Once in maiden pride you shone,
Now thy pillow is of stone;
Once propitious fortune smil'd,
But now sorrow's hapless child;
Once thy parents' dear delight,
Now fled for ever from their sight.
And once to thee, the sportive wile,
The eye of joy-the angel's smile-
And ev'ry grace did thee adorn,
Fair as the blushing face of morn.

Now gone, alas! thy former ease,
Well-form'd the eye, the soul to please-
Thy feature, void of early grace-
The sunken eye-the pallid face,
Now speak the ruin of that mind,
Where joy heav'd and virtue shin'd.

Now oft, amid the horrid roar
Of water, dashing on the shore,
Howling winds, and piercing cries,
Mary for her Edwin sighs.
Edwin once her only joy-
Once her dearest, darling boy,
On whose bosom oft she hung,
To catch each accent of his tongue,
To her all sweetness as it sung,
Her Edwin's love to Mary.

But now alone-her Edwin gone-
She shrieks her woe in plaintive tone.
Life's now thy bane--of every hour,
The blessings down no longer pour-
Thy balm of life, for ever fled-
Thy joy-thy Edwin, now is dead.

Now sleep, thy only dear solace, Has spread his wings around thy face, While o'er thee hov'ring spirits eye, And drop the tear of sympathy.

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Still, fancy 'wakes, in horror drest-
Now agitates thy weary breast,
I see alarm, with rapid pace,
Now shooting o'er thy pallid face-
I see the dire effects of woe-
The clenching hand-the panting throe-
Convulsive start-and dismal scream,
Of nature, shudd'ring at thy dream.

Then from her visions of despair,
She sprung with wild dishevell'd hair,
And face that spoke a world of care.
And then in transport wild carest
Her Edwin's image at her breast-
That image Edwin gave, so true,
When he to Mary, said, " Adieu."-
And aye since he afar was borne,
The token, she, of love, had worn-
Of earth her all-she wish'd no more-
But kiss'd it madly, o'er and o'er.

And as she view'd the floating past-
Her ray of joy was overcast-
She rolled aloft her maniac-eye,
And shriek'd aloud, in dismal cry,-
"O Edwin, love, I see thy shroud
That beckons me from yonder cloud-
Oh yes I see before my eye,
Thy spirit rising to the sky,
Oh, my Edwin, do not fly
From thy Mary-It is I."

With that she forward rapid prest,
To clasp his spirit to her breast.
And, horror! quick to end her woc,
Plung'd in the foaming gulph below!
Her fall re-echoed on the shore

She rose to sink, and sank to rise no more!
DOWNS.
Camden, May 15, 1821.

MR. EDITOR,

}

SIR,-I take the liberty of forwarding to you the accompanying verses; because I am convinced that their insertion in the Imperial Magazine will please many of your intelligent readers: an object you not only earnestly desire, but one at which you successfully aim. The lines were written by a lady, who resided for some years in the grand capital of the Roman world, when comparing on the spot “Pyraneze's Views of Rome" with their original. They surely evince much clearness of thought, and no inconsiderable quantum of mind.

I have the honour to be, &c.
M. F. S.

PYRANEZE'S VIEWS OF ROME.

FAR out of truth and reason's sight,
With outstretch'd wing and gaudy plume,
See fancy take her airy flight

Through Pyraneze's Views of Rome.

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Thus right and wrong, and good and ill,
May various lights and shades assume,
Through long perspective drawn with skill,
Like Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
Marriage in prospect may appear
A beauteous garden all in bloom;
A hedge of thorns we find it near,
"Tis Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
Benevolence-Oh pleasing sound,
What! is she found at each man's home
With all our little passions round?
Just Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
Porturient heaves yon mount-anon
Bursts forth a mouse from its high womb!
Oh human science, what art thou?
E'en Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
Oft through sad mournful vistas seen,
Man's life appears a lengthen'd gloom,
'Till heaven's bright sunshine shews the scene,
Mere Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
Reflected in the stagnant lakes

Surrounding shrubs tall trees become;
So indolence of labour takes

A view like Pyraneze's Rome.
Thus every human hope and fear,
Quite from the cradle to the tomb,
Large at a distance-small when here,
Like Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
But most of self-love's prism beware;
On its report should man presume,
"Twill give false vision, falser far

Than Pyraneze's Views of Rome.
The uphill path that leads to heav'n
Is strait and steep, yet drawn by mau
Wide as the Scala, lo 'tis given,
Of Pyraneze's Vatican."

Like virtue's self, sublimely grand
Is one majestic noble dome,
Must that alone contracted stand

In Pyraneze's Views of Rome?

Rise then to that stupendous height,

Where art's faint shadows ne'er can come; Ah thou, my country, baffles quite

Poor Pyraneze, and pride-swoln Rome!

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Where massy rocks o'erhang the swelling

tides,

As if ordain'd to help the gazing eye

To view the hidden gambols, and to catch
The glancing splendors of the finny tribe
That take their sport below? Shall not be
found

Some breast that glows with love of nature's works,

The God of nature's, who shall snatch his tints

From scenes that rise in rude magnificence,
To sing the bounding flood, its fucus groves,
And those who bait the barbed hook with guile;
To ensnare their agile prey, and draw it up,
Struggling t' escape into its waves again?

O thou blest spirit, serving heaven's high
King,

Who o'er the silent beach and swelling tide
Delight'st to walk, when high the moon globose
Rides in mid-heaven, amidst the glowing stars
Rejoicing in serenity, and bidst

Th' arising waters kiss the sands in peace,
Or swell'd to rage dash the resounding shore,
Doing the orders given thee from above,
Assist me, for thou know'st, to swell my song
With heav'nly fire from off thy altar, truth!

Winter is gone, with all its blustering storms, And western breezes curl the laughing sea. Now hardy-handed Industry comes forth, Grey-hair'd, and beardless youth, in thronging crowds,

To hoist the sail, prepare the lengthen'd line, And nets fine-mesh'd, of colour deep embrown'd,

Eager to launch them on the swelling floods.
Here fancy's eye may contemplate at will
The eager hope that leads adventure on
From childhood learning how to tug the oar,
Or haul the grapnel from its stony bed,
To where she guides the helm, and where at

last

She bears Britannia's thunder round the world. Now from the Atlantic Ocean deep and wide, Where late they slumber'd while the tempest roar'd,

Or rode, perhaps, mid-deep the troubled sea, Shaping their course to Cornwall's rocky shores,

The Scilly Isles, or Lizard's lengthen'd front,
The many-colour'd mackarel bends his way;
Their shape how fine! their nimbleness exceeds
All that we know of earth's inhabitants;
They skim the wave, rejoicing in the spring,
That bids them seek the sandy bays again;
And nippling at she surface as they go,
Their various dyes the sun reflected shows,
Each sparkling tint expressing to the eye
The wild luxuriancy of bliss within.
Alas! that joy not long their bosom swells:
The fisher spreads his net across their course,
And all their pastime sinks. Dragg'd slowly in
A thousand colours fly, and come, and go,
More fine than pencil can express--purple and
gold

In quick succession flittering o'er their scales.

The nets in order carefully dispos'd, They take advantage of the fresh'ning gale To hasten joyous home. Swift flies the boat, The blackening surges parting as they pass, Curl'd by the northern blast; the course they take

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