made the blindness of the Hebrew Hercules "darkness audible;" but it has yet a greater task to do, in incarnating in sound the dumb and dreadful soul of music sleeping in the Apocalypse.

But the question may here arise to what order of poems does the Apocalypse belong-if, indeed, it be a poem at all? We have read much controversy as to its poetical character and form. On the one hand, it has been contended, that its structure, and the frequent occurrence of parallelisms, constitute it entirely a poem; while it is maintained, on the other, that, while poetical passages occur, its general cast is symbolical rather than poetical, and itself no more a poem than the Gospels. We are mistaken if the theory propounded in the third chapter do not embrace and reconcile both those opposite views. There, we maintained that Scripture was composed, partly of poetic statement and partly of poetic song the former including in it, too, the expression of symbols, which, however plainly stated, are poetical in the truths they shadow, as well as in the shadows themselves. This definition, we think, includes the whole Apocalypse. We have, first, in it the general dogmatic or hortatory matter of the three commencing chapters, which, though full of figure, has no rhythmical rise or melody; secondly, the symbols of the temple and its furniture, the seals, beasts, &c.; thirdly, the songs and ascriptions of thanksgiving sprinkled throughout; and, fourthly, the great story, or plot, which winds its way amidst all those strange and varied elements. Thus, all is poetical in essence, but part only poetical in form. The whole is a poem, i. e., a creation; but a creation like God's, containing portions of more and of less intensity and sweetness. The difference between it and the Gospels is chiefly, that they are professedly histories, with fictitious and rhythmical parts; the Apocalypse professedly a vision, with much in it that must be taken literally, and with a profound meaning running through all its symbols and songs. Though a poem, it is not the less essentially, though it is the less literally, true.

But to what species of poem does it belong? By Eichhorn and others, it is, on account of its changing actors, shifting scenes, and the presence of a chorus, ranked with the drama. Stuart calls it an epopee; others class it with lyric poems. We are not disposed to coincide entirely with any

of those opisions. As well call a series of dissolving views, with the music to which they dissolve or enter, a regular drama, with a regular chorus, as the Apocalypse. A poetic recital of a poetic story it is; but both the story and the recital are far from regular. Lyrics ring in it, like bells amid a midnight conflagration; but, as a whole, it is narrative. Shall we then say of it merely-"I saw a great tumult, and know not what it was?" Or shall we call it a poem-mystery, acknowledging no rules, including all style and all forms, and gathering all diversified elements into one glorious, terrible, nondescript composite? Has it not unwittingly painted its own image in one of those locusts, which it describes, riding over the earth? It is, in its warlike genius, like "unto a horse prepared for the battle." It wears on its head a crown of gold-the gold of towering imagery. Its piercing intuition makes its "face as the face of man, and its teeth as the teeth of a lion." Mystery, like the "hair of women," floats around it, and hardens into a "breastplate of iron" over its breast. Its "tail stings like a scorpion," in the words " If any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city." And its rapid and rushing eloquence is "like the sound of chariots-of many horses running to battle." Here, there may be fancy in our use of the symbols, but the characteristics thus symbolized are realities.

How wonderful the mere outline of this book! The stage a solitary island,—

"Placed far amid the melancholy main;"

the sole spectator, a gray-haired apostle of Jesus, who once lay on his breast, but is now alone in the world; the time, the Lord's-day, acquiring a deeper sacredness from the surrounding solitude and silence of nature: the appearance of the Universal Bishop, gold-girt, with head and hairs white as snow, flaming eyes, feet like burning brass, voice as the sound of many waters, the seven stars in his right hand, and walking through the midst of the seven golden candlesticks; his charges to his churches so simple, affectionate, and awful; the opening of a door in heaven; the throne, rainbow-surrounded, fringed by the seven lamps, and seeing its shadow in the sea of glass, mingled with fire; the Lion of the tribe of Judah opening

the seals; the coming forth of the giant steeds—one white as the milky banner of the Cross, another red as blood-a third black, and with the rider having a pair of balances in his hand-a fourth pale, and mounted by Death; the cry of the souls under the altar; the opening of the sixth seal; the four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, and blowing their blasts over a silent world; the sealing of 'the tribes; the great multitude standing before the Lamb; the volcano cast, like a spark, into the sea; the opening of the bottomless pit; the emergence of those fearful hybrids of hell-the scorpion locusts, with Apollyon as their king; the unwritten words of the seven thunders; the prophesying, and death, and resurrection of the two witnesses; the woman clothed with the sun; that other woman, drunk and drenched in holy blood; the uprising of the twin beasts of crowned blasphemy; the Lamb and his company on the Mount Zion; the angel flying through the midst of heaven, with the Gospel in his mouth; the man on the white cloud, with the gold crown on his head, and the sharp sickle in his hand; the reaping of the harvest of the earth; the vintage of blood; the coming forth from the smoke of the glory of God—of the seven angels, with the seven last plagues, clothed with linen, girded with virgin gold, and holding, with hands unharmed and untrembling, the vials full of the wrath of God—one for the earth-one for the sea-one for the fountains of watersone for the sun, to feed his old flame into tenfold fiercenessone for the seat of the beast-one for the Euphrates-and one for the fire-tormented and earthquake-listening air; the fall of the great city Babylon; the preparations for the battle of Armageddon; the advent of the Captain of the holy host; the battle; the rout of the beast, and the false prophet driven back upon the lake of fire; the binding of Satan; the reign of Christ and his saints; the final assault of the enemy, Gog and Magog, upon the camp and the holy city; their discomfiture; the uprising, behind it, of the great white throne; and the ultimate and everlasting "Bridal of the earth and sky"-such are the main constituents of this prodigious and unearthly poem, the Apocalypse, or Revelation of Jesus Christ.

But what saith this Scripture? of what is this the ciphered story? "Who shall open this book, and loose the seals therof?" We seem to see ten thousand attenuated

forms, and pale and eager countenances, hanging over, and beseeching its obstinate oracle. We remember the circle of books which have, in the course of ages, slowly gathered around it, like planets around the sun, in vain, for how can planets add to the clearness of their central luminary? We remember the fact, that many strong spirits, such as Calvin and Luther, have shrunk from the task of its explication, and that Robert Hall is reported to have said, when asked to undertake it, "Do you wish me in my grave?" We remember that the explanations hitherto given constitute a very chaos of contradictions, and remind us of the

"Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.

For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce,
Strive here for mast'ry, and to battle bring
Their embryon atoms; they around the flag
Of each his faction in their several clans,

Light arm'd, or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,
Swarm populous."

So that the question still recurs, "Who shall book, and loose the seals thereof ?"

open the

Sin, the sorceress, kept the key of hell. Perhaps to Time, the truth-teller, has been intrusted the key of this chaos; or, perhaps, some angel-genius, mightier still than Mede, or Elliott, or Croly, may yet be seen speeding, "with a key in his hand," to open this surpassing problem, and with " a great chain," to bind its conflicting interpreters. Our notion rather is, that the full solution is reserved for the second coming of Christ; that he alone possesses the key to its mystery, who holds, also, the keys of Hades and of death; and that over this hitherto inscrutable volume, as over so many others, the song shall be sung, "Thou, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof."

We cannot close the Apocalypse, without wondering at its singular history. An island dream, despised at first by many, as we would have despised that of a seer of Mull or Benbecula, admitted with difficulty into the canon, has foretold and outlived dynasties-made Popes tremble and toss upon their midnight beds-made conquerors pale, as they saw, or thought they saw, their own achievements traced along its mysterious page, and their own bloody seas antici

pated-fired the muse of the proudest poets, and the pencilof the most gifted artists-and drawn, as students and admirers, around its cloudy centre, the doctors, and theologians, and philosophers of half the world. And, most wonderful of all, it has kept its secret-it has baffled inquirers, and continues "shrouded and folded up," like a ghost in its own formless shades, ranking thus, either with the dreams of mere madness, and forming a silent but tremendous satire on a world of fools, who have consented to believe and to examine it; or, as we believe, with those grand enigmas of Nature, Providence, and Faith, which can only be stated, and can only be solved, by God himself.

CHAPTER XVII.

COMPARATIVE ESTIMATE, INFLUENCES, AND EFFECTS OF SCRIPTURE POETRY.

THIS would demand a volume, instead of a chapter, inasmuch as the influences of Scripture poetry slide away into the influences of Scripture itself. But our purpose is merely, first, to expand somewhat our general statements in the Introduction, as to the superiority of the Bible as a book; and then, secondly, to point out some of the deep effects it has had upon the mind and the literature of the world.

To make a comparative estimate of Scripture poetry is not a complicated task, since the superiority of the Bible poets to the mass of even men of true genius, will not be disputed. Like flies dispersed by an eagle's wing, there are brushed away before them all brilliant triflers, elegant simulators, men who "play well upon an instrument," and who have found that instrument in the lyre-who have turned to common uses the aerolite which has fallen at their door from heaven, and "lightly esteemed" the little, but genuine and God-given, power which is their all. These, too, have a place and a name of their own; but the Anacreons, the Hafizs, the Catulli, and the Moores, must flutter aside from the "terribil via" of Moses and David. So, too, must depart the Sauls,