they dashed together, forcing up under the tremendous pressure some hundreds of tons of ice. Before the rope and hawsers could be disengaged, two other points of the revolving ice ap peared astern, rapidly approaching each other. • Remaining where we were, though but for five minutes, was inevitable shipwreck; and to trust to the strength of a warp of five inches circumference, the only mooring rope we had now at com. mand, afforded but small hope of a better fate; for, in the event of the ship breaking adrift, as there was not breadth between the floes to swing, she must fall astern with such a shock against the ice, as could scarcely fail to be destructive. Possible safety, however, was preferred to certain destruction. We now slacked astern by the warp fastened to the second hawser, which, to our astonishment and delight, sustained the prodigious strain; and although it was not capable of bringing the ship up, yet it so far resisted her velocity, that at the moment when it came to an end, a hawser, that was meanwhile hauled on board, was fastened to another anchor placed for its attachment, whereby the motion astern was suspended. On this occasion, we again escaped the nip by only three or four feet, and the floes came in contact with unabated violence, scarcely a ship's length ahead. But more and more approximating points appearing astern, we dropped the ship the whole length of our last hawser, with the hope of avoiding them; but it only carried us clear of the first. We were then brought to a stand: for the other hawsers and warp, forming a continuous line of 700 yards in length, got entangled, and nipped by the floes, so that we were under the necessity of slipping the end and fastening it to the ice. As we had now no rope left of sufficient strength with which to shift the hawser, our progress would have been suspended, and our previous exertions rendered nugatory, had we not brought into use a small mooring chain that was fortunately at hand. Before the hawser was again fastened, however, the hook of the chain broke, and the ship was entirely adrift. But it providentially happened, that the people who were on the ice, having seized upon the end of the hawser, were enabled to cast it over an anchor that an officer was engaged in setting, at the very last moment that could have served for our preservation! The severe strain to which this hawser was subjected, broke one of its strands, and called for the instant renewal of the chain. This was a most narrow escape; but there was another that succeeded, which was equally striking. When slacking astern by the hawser, the ship swung alongside the eastern floe into a little bight, and the rudder unfortunately caught behind a point which projected some feet to windward. The floes were so nearly close, that we had not time to heave ahead, had this measure been practicable under such a storm. We were in a state of extreme jeopardy. One of the after-sails was instantly loosed, and hauled over to the starboard quarter; the action of this, happily coinciding with a momentary diminution of the wind, when the tension of the ropes drew the ship ahead, turned her stern clear of the point. We instantly slacked astern and dropped beyond this danger. pp. 309–311. Other obstacles of equal magnitude were overcome by the same skill and perseverance, though many of the manœuvres were effected by means of a doubtful chain and a stranded rope, the wind blowing such a hurricane that a speaking-trumpet would scarcely carry the voice from the companion to the windlass. The narrow channel down which the Baffin dropped, was a mile in length, and there was not in it a single interval where a delay of ten minutes would not have caused the ship to be crushed to splinters. The floes between which she was entangled, were in a state of counter-revolution, grinding against each other in opposite directions, like a pair of cogged wheels; nor was any respite obtained until their rotatory motion had ceased. We have little room for comment on the general results of this interesting voyage; nor, in fact, does any seem called for beyond the general statements which we have given. Mr. Scoresby has made a regular survey of a large extent of unknown coast; he has examined its productions, mineral, vegetable, and animal; he has proved at least its occasional accessibility; and he has ascertained the existence of human residents, as well as the probable dissimilarity of some of their habits from those of the Esquimaux. We have still to add to the detail of disaster, an event which took place towards the close of the voyage. After having, on the 30th of August, passed through the sea-stream' of ice, and spread their canvas joyously for their homeward course, on the 11th of September, the Baffin's crew were exposed, on a lee-shore, to a fearful storm; by far the heaviest,' writes Captain Scoresby, I ever encountered.' No water had yet been shipped, though the tremendous sea that was running, was received upon the ship's quarter, or beam, being in a direction of all others the most dangerous. A fatal wave, however, at length struck the quarter, with tremendous violence, and throwing up a vast weight of water, carried along with it, in its passage across the deck, one of our harpooners, or principal officers (who, along with several others, was employed on the weather-rail endeavouring to secure one of the boats hanging over the side) quite over the heads of his companions; and swept him overboard! Most of the crew being under water at the same time, his loss was not known until he was discovered just passing under the ship's stern, but out of reach, and lying apparently insensible upon the wave. He was only seen for a few seconds, and then disappeared for ever. For some minutes, it was not known who the sufferer was. Every one was greatly distressed; and each, in his anxious exclamations, reVOL. XX. N.S. N vealed his fears for his friend. "It is Shields, Jack," cries one. "No," replies a voice of feeling self-congratulation, " I am here."— "It is Jack O'Neill," exclaims another;" Aye, poor fellow,-it is Jack O'Neill." But a dripping stupor-struck sailor, clinging by the weather-rail, comes aft at the moment, and replies, "No, I am here." After a pause of suspense, one adds, "It is Chambers."-" Ah! it must be Sam Chambers," cries another; and no voice contradicted the assertion, for his voice, poor sufferer, was already choked with the waters, and his spirit had fled to meet its GOD! Happily he was an excellent man; and there was no doubt with those who knew his habitual piety, and consistency of conduct, that he was prepared to die. His conduct, in every case, was worthy of his profession; and was a sufficient proof, if such proof could be necessary, that religion, when real, gives confidence and courage to the sailor, rather than destroys his hardihood and bravery. He was always one of the foremost in a post of danger, and met with his death in an exposed situation, to which duty called, where he had voluntarily posted himself." pp. 375-377. The conclusion of the journal is most affecting. When Captain Scoresby reached port, he was stunned by the unexpected news of the death of his beloved wife. Our readers will be at no loss to conceive how so severe a blow would affect a man such as these pages have described. Art. V. Matins and Vespers with Hymns and occasional Devotional Pieces. By John Bowring. Foolscap 8vo. pp. 256. Price 6s. : London. 1823. MR. Bowring's elegant and spirited translations from the Russian and the Spanish, entitle him to a higher rank among the poets of the day, than he would have obtained by his original compositions. The public are under obligations to him for having enlarged the range of our literature, by the new province of which he has, as it were, taken possession in the name of his country. He has struck out a new path for literary enterprise; and though the field upon which he has entered, is a very limited one, his importations are of a highly interesting character. Mr. Bowring's talents seem to qualify him more especially to succeed in poetical translation. He has great facility and command of language, great dexterity of imitation, and versatility of mind, together with no small portion of poetic feeling. But the instances are very rare, in which an able translator has distinguished himself as an original poet. The habit, and perhaps the turn of mind, required and exercised in translation, is not favourable to the cultivation. of the self-dependent power of thinking and the native sources of poetic emotion. Pope can scarcely be admitted to be an exception, for his Iliad is an original poem, rather than a translation. As a translation, it is a failure. The Author of the best poetical version in the English language, the Translator of Dante, is unknown as an original poet; and from the heaviness of his prose, we should not expect him to succeed in a different walk of composition. To excel as an engraver, requires genius, not less than to succeed as a painter, but genius of a different kind; and so it is with respect to poetical transcripts of the designs of others. The translator, like the engraver, deservedly ranks as an artist; and when we consider how extremely few are the instances of success in this species of composition, we can scarcely consider as inferior, though confessedly different, the talent which the art requires. The present volume is of that mixed character which belongs equally to the departments of poetry and theology. Its Author would not be satisfied, nor could we satisfy ourselves, were we to treat it simply as poetry. These Hymns, he tells us, were not written in the pursuit of fame or literary triumph. They are full of borrowed images, of thoughts and feelings excited less by my own contemplations than by the writings of others. I have not sought to be original. To be useful is my ambition-that obtained, I am indifferent to the rest.' In reviewing works of taste, it is a rule which we are not aware that we can be accused of violating, to know nothing of the Author's private sentiments, either political or religious, beyond what appears in his performance. And had not Mr. Bowring come before us as a hymn-writer, we should not have felt it to be our business to take cognizance of his theological opinions. But, in this volume, he stands prominently forward as the poet of Unitarianism; and its literary merits become a quite subordinate consideration, when we view it as the anomalous product and rare specimen of Unitarian devotion. The impression it has left on our minds, is painfully decisive. Before, however, we offer any remarks on these compositions, we shall enable our readers to judge of them by a few speci mens. The Matins and Vespers consist of a series of morning and evening hymns, or addresses to the Deity, for four weeks; each week being a different season. We take the following from the first week: it is headed, Tuesday Morning.' When the arousing call of Morn Breaks o'er the hills, and day new born Comes smiling from the purple East, And the pure streams of liquid light O how delightful then, how sweet, To the great Cause of light and love. Thou! who didst wake me first from nought, O teach me, Father! while I feel And whence I came and whither tend: Teach me to live-to act-to be Worthy my origin, and Thee, And worthy my immortal end. O not in vain to me be given The joys of earth-the hopes of heaven! My master's talents-but, subdued • Heaven's right-lined path may I discern, A handbreadth from the onward road; pp. 16-18. • Wednesday Evening' of the same week, has assigned to it the following lines. Almighty Being! wise and holy, |