"Childlike though the voices be,

And untunable the parts,
Thou wilt own the minstrelsy,

If it flow from childlike hearts."
Keble's "Christian Year."-Palm Sunday.

AUTHORS who are so unfortunate as to labour under neglect and contempt during life, generally console themselves with the hope, that, when death has put a stop to envy, their works shall be held in due esteem; while those of their contemporaries who now enjoy the applauses of the world shall part with fame when they part with breath, and drop at once into oblivion and the grave. This flattering notion they support by many notable metaphors, such as the slow growth of the forests, which will overshadow the land for centuries yet to come, and the fleeting splendours of the flower-garden, which bloom and perish in a year; but the examples which they produce in proof of their proposition, or at any rate, in proof of the former part of it,-namely, the tardy rise of real fame, may often, as in the case of Milton,* be shown to be built upon false conceptions of popularity, or upon ignorance of the times in which such examples lived. With respect to the other portion of their consolatory maxim,-namely, that brilliant and early success often passes quickly away, and that a sudden fame may prove but a meteor-light which blazes only to expire,-this certainly contains more truth than the former one; (although its truth is, as usual, overcharged;) for it is undeniable that some mighty reputations, which have risen "like an exhalation,"

But Sir Egerton Brydges, in the beautiful Life prefixed to his edition of Milton's Works, seems inclined to agree with the more ordinary opinion, that the merits of the Paradise Lost were really little known to Milton's contemporaries. Vol. i., p. 168, &c.; and again, p. 187, and p. 194.

and have seemed to be palaces of more than mortal splendour, have ere long melted away, as did Catherine's famous structure of ice,

"Once a stream,

And soon to slide into a stream again.”

To this kind of reputation, many would affirm that the fame of Herbert must be referred; and would wish us to believe, that, great as was the admiration universally expressed for his poems when they first appeared, (although, as they were posthumous, the rule does not so strictly apply to him as to some other writers,) still it arose rather from the recollection of his holy and devoted life than from any real merit which might entitle them to be enrolled in the long list of standard English poetry. But in arguments of this sort, "the wish" has too often been "the father to the thought." Men who felt not the religion which forms the chief charm of Herbert's holy songs, have been unable to discover any sufficient reason, according to their own rules, for his great renown; and not knowing how to bend his compositions to suit any theory, they have taken the alternative of making theory bend a little, so as to suit them. All this, however, falls to the ground when it is discovered, that the popularity of these poems has not yet altogether faded; nor is it likely to fade, so long as a love for pure and simple piety remains among mankind, or so long as a few can still be found, who refuse to bow the knee to any idol of mere earthly gold.

First on the list of Herbert's detractors, stands the Right Honourable George Ellis, who, not content with denying his poetical ability, would fain deny his sincerity too. 'Nature," says he, seems to have intended him for a knight errant, but disappointed ambition made him

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a saint."

Truly, a period admirably rounded, and a sarcasm marvellously well expressed! which, if it had but the trifling additional advantage of being also true, might pass muster as a tolerable pleasantry. But in the next sentence, he waxes still more acute. "Walton tells us, that no less than ten thousand copies of his poems were sold; which proves the religious zeal, much more than the good taste, of his contemporaries." As this last piece of severity relates to Herbert's poetical character, I will leave it for the present. Of the former, it may be necessary here to say a few words. The sole grounds which I can discover for this flippant jest, (and with all my respect for Ellis, I can call it nothing better,) appear to have been, first, the fervency of Herbert's devotion, which is construed into natural knighterrantry manifesting itself in religion and next, a misapprehension of Izaak Walton's remark, that, at the death of Herbert's two most powerful patrons among the nobility, and of his still more exalted patron, King James I., "with them" died "all Mr. Herbert's Court hopes," upon which is founded the notion that disappointed ambition made him a saint." For the former part of this accusation, defence is neither offered nor required:--for the latter, I think it is very evident that Walton could not suppose the slight impediment which Herbert's hopes of Court preferment might find in James's death, to be his sole reason for declining a courtier's life, from the facts, that his elder brother, Edward, (known to us as the famous Lord Herbert of Cherbury,) continued high in favour at Charles's Court, and that Charles himself, when petitioned for the living of Bemerton on Herbert's account, granted it in such terms as proved that Herbert was not only well known, but most favourably known, to his King.§ Besides, it is

surely but fair, in such a matter, to take a man's own testimony concerning his motives, unless some most potent proof could be brought forward to show that he is not a trustworthy witness in his own case; and nothing can be more explicit than the following answer which Herbert made to one of his friends, who remonstrated with him on his resolve to enter into the ministry, as if that sacred office were unworthy of him :

:

"It hath been formerly adjudged that the domestic servants of the King of heaven should be of the noblest families on earth: and though the iniquity of the late times have made Clergymen meanly valued, and the sacred name of Priest contemptible; yet will I labour to make it honourable, by consecrating all my learning, and all my poor abilities, to advance the glory of that God that gave them; knowing that I can never do too much for Him that hath done so much for me, as to make me a Christian. And I will labour to be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek example of my dear Jesus." ||

The fact is, that Herbert was never fitted for a Court. So early as when he was in his seventeenth year, he addressed two sonnets to his mother, with a letter, in which he expresses his resolution that his

poor abilities in poetry shall be all and ever consecrated to God's glory;" and although, through his situation as Public Orator of the University of Cambridge, (which gave him the opportunity of insuring King James's favour, and hopes that his lot might not be less splendid than those of his predecessors,**) as well as through the rank of his own noble family, he did for some time attach himself to the Court, yet he evidently forsook it with

pleasure, and found greater happiness in his duties as a parish Priest, than he would have done, could he have wielded the destinies of the world. Thus much may serve as an answer to the charge of disappointed ambition.

Other writers who have chosen to express contempt or dislike for Herbert may be divided into two classes, of which the one will comprise those who allow his piety, but deny him any share of poetical talent; and the other, those who do not reject his claim to the title of poet, but think that his beauties are so concealed under a mass of quaintness and conceit, that the endeavour to disencumber them would be so great as to overbalance their value when found. It is probably with this latter class that the majority of readers would be inclined to agree; since it cannot be denied that far too many conceits (for modern taste, at least) are to be detected, even in some of his best productions; but I will strive briefly to assign some reason for this, as well as to show that the charge is considerably exaggerated. First, however, it will be necessary to examine the decree which would at once exclude Herbert's writings from the rank of poetry.

Of writers who hold this opinion, I know not where to find a better specimen than one of the biographers of Crashaw, who is very unmeasured in his wrath; although I am willing to take his words with a little allowance; for, after all, an antithesis is a very tempting thing, and if a man sees a word by which his sentence may be made to look rather more pointed, he can scarcely be expected to sacrifice it, merely because it does not happen to be in strict accordance with fact. This is rather a lame apology, I allow; but if the writer of the following dictum is to be pardoned at all, it must be either on account of the seductive opportunity of writing a smart sarcasm, or because he had never read Herbert, and therefore spoke only from what others had told him. Unless some such plea can be put in for him,

See Anderson's Poets, vol. iv., p. 703.

we have nothing left but to doubt the accuracy of his judgment.

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Herbert," he says, "has enthusiasm without sublimity, and conceit without either ingenuity or imagination." Before this positive gentleman so expressly blames the absence of any quality from an author's writings, he should first have inquired into the probable nature of those writings, to see whether such a quality might fairly have been expected; and I think, if he had read the account which Herbert himself, on his death-bed, gave of the book, sublimity would scarcely be the characteristic excellence which he would hope to find:

Having said this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed to exalt him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and, with a thoughtful and contented look, say to him, 'Sir, I pray deliver this little book to my dear brother Ferrar, and tell him, he shall find in it a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus my Master; in whose service I have now found perfect freedom; desire him to read it: and then, if he can think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul, let it be made public; if not, let him burn it; for I and it are less than the least of God's mercies.". ተ

But for the other qualities,-ingenuity and imagination,—these I certainly cannot give up; nor, I think, will any one deny that the most beautiful imagination is exhibited in the following "delicious poem : "‡—

THE FLOWER.

دو

Quite under ground, as flowers depart

the first three verses of the fol

blown;

On whom thy tempests fell all night.

"These are thy wonders, Lord of love, To make us see we are but flowers that glide, Which when we once can find and prove, Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide. Who would be more, Swelling through store, Forfeit their paradise by their pride."* Surely the tenderness of devotion has seldom been more exquisitely or simply expressed! Seldom has a sweeter play of fancy lingered around that entire submission to the will of God, which is not the submission of an apathetic indifference, but the full surrender of the will, arising from a perfect confidence that what He does, is best. The occasional quaintness, which is here and there perceptible, by giving the verses more character, gives them also additional grace. Again, I believe Crashaw himself will not be found to have composed anything so musically sorrowful as

Pickering's edition of Herbert's Poems, pp. 175-177.

VOL. XVIII. Third Series.

is, I confess, very inferior to the former.

VIRTUE.

"Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.

"Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

"Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,

A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

"Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives."†

In general, I have little fondness for imitation; and for alteration, none at all for which reason I will not insert the earlier part of Bishop Horne's version of this hymn; especially as, by changing the metre, he has greatly injured the melody: but the last verse may be quoted, since it is certainly superior to Herbert's :

"Be wise then, Christian, while you may,
For swiftly Time is flying;
The thoughtless man that laughs to-day,
To-morrow will be dying. +

It is now time, in a few words to examine the opinion of those who, like Mr. Montgomery,§ suppose Herbert's conceits to be so glaring and abundant, that they often serve rather to caricature, than to adorn, the devotion which he wished to express. I have already allowed that this notion is, in some measure, founded on truth: but that the evil extends so far as writers of this opinion would wish us to believe, the instances of his poetry which I have already given would be sufficient to disprove ;-while, on the other hand, when we remember the time in which Herbert lived, and the state of poetry and its professors

+ Ibid., p. 87.