་ ple, and tasteful, but it sometimes covered thoughts that had better never have been expressed. Bolingbroke was among the most elegant prose writers of that period. He wrote with a lofty spirit, and would be more known than he is, if he had not left a tinge of infidelity in his works. Sir William Temple, who died in 1700, left several works that should be read for correctness and elegance. The English language has changed but little since the time of these distinguished men. They have been standards for the last century. They are quoted by all the compilers of dictionaries, as authority, and will hold their weight and respectability forever. The additions that have been made to the English language have effected no change with them. There is hardly a word used at the period we are now speaking of, by these learned men, that has grown obsolete. Dr. Watts is a name dear to every pious mind in this country, and should not be forgotten in our hasty sketches of those who have added to or purified the currents of English literature. Watts was a man of genius and learning. He wrote books for colleges and for mature minds, and would have been distinguished in any of the higher branches of science, had he confined himself to them; and the specimens he has given us of his powers in lyric poetry, prove that if he had devoted much attention to it, he would certainly have excelled; but a sense of duty led him to write for the improvement of his flock, of all ages, rather than for fame. He sung the lullaby for infancy, and poured wholesome truths into the humble minds of those "proud science never taught to stray." In prose and verse, he labored to enlighten the ignorant and warm the cold. His psalms and hymns, if not of the first grade of poetry, are full of the oil of sanctity. Such men, if they do not burn with a fierce and dazzling flame to astound their contemporaries, or to excite the admiration of after ages, yet they shed a mild and lasting light of hope and life on those about them, and on those who follow them. They "Allure to brighter worlds and lead the way." THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER. Why should our joys transform to pain? A plague of iron prove? Bendysh, 'tis strange the charm that binds In vain I sought the wond'rous cause, Then deep in thought, within my breast O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide, (Sweet rapture of my mind!) Till on the banks of Ganges' flood, For sacred use design'd. Hard by, a venerable priest, Risen with his god, the sun, from rest, Thrice he conjur'd the murmuring stream; "He sang th' eternal rolling flame, "But shaped in twice ten thousand frames: "Thence differing souls of differing names, "And jarring tempers, rose. "The mighty power that form'd the mind "But parting from their warm abode "They lost their fellows on the road, "And never join'd their hands. "Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates! "Our eastern souls have dropp'd their mates "On Europe's barb'rous lands. "Happy the youth that finds his bride "Whose birth is to his own ally'd, "The sweetest joy of life: "But oh the crowds of wretched souls "Fetter'd to minds of different moulds, "And chain'd t' eternal strife!" "Thus sang the wondrous Indian bard; "Some courteous angel tell me where, "What distant lands this unknown fair, "Or distant seas detain? "Swift as the wheel of nature rolls "I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls, "And wear the joyful chain." CHAPTER IV. THE tone of English literature at this period can be traced in no small degree to a few fashionable writers, among whom Lord Lyttelton and the Earl of Chesterfield shone conspicuous. Through their influence literary pursuits became current in the higher circles of society. Lyttelton was a scholar of most exquisite taste; his writings were all highly polished, but they were more refined than impassioned, more delicate and sentimental than deep and philosophical, still there was much good sense in whatever he wrote. In parliament he was eloquent and honest, and loved to speak his mother tongue. In early life he wandered into the mazes of infidelity, but was not suffered to be entangled there long before the clue was given him to find his way out of darkness to the light. His treatise on the conversion of St. Paul has done much good in England. It is written in a plain but elegant manner, and served to check the progress of unbelief in the upper circles, and kept those from sneering at religion who had not courage enough to examine the subject. Lord Lyttelton wrote other works of great merit, and such as served as models of composition for the young aspirants for literary fame. His dialogues of the dead are full of wisdom and taste. They have been imitated a thousand times. His Persian Tales have much of oriental sweetness and imagination in them, and gave the reading community in England and this country a taste for those lovely creations of the imagination ;the Arabian, Persian, and other Eastern tales, now so much read in all civilized countries. The poetry of Lyttelton is smooth, plaintive, polished, and sweet. His monody on his wife is universally admired. There is no rage in his grief. His Muse wept as a mortal, but a consciousness that she was a celestial being shone through her tears, and threw around her an air of pious dignity. Chesterfield was fifteen years older than Lyttelton, but his literary labors did not commence so soon; politics absorbed his youth, what of it that was not spent in the whirl of fashionable life. He was one of those rare men who raise and direct the spell of fashionable life, which is soon broken and passes away like "the baseless fabric of a vision." It was in his reign and empire that letters were made fashionable. He wrote with uncommon grace and ease, and every line from his pen punished or annihilated a blockhead, as he chose. He was no less a man of talents than a man of the world. He saw every thing passing with the ken |