the gospel to myself, and all confusion and perplexity, when I attempted to do so. One evening, (about three weeks before going to London for advice,) while alone in my room, and thinking on the subject, I saw, by an instantaneous light, that God would, for Christ's sake, forgive my sins ;-the effect was so powerful that I was almost dissolved by it. I was unspeakably happy.' pp. 123–4.

This account, we need not say, savours strongly of fanaticism, with which the author had, for some years been a little tainted, and which her late morbid state had increased. Though her raptures soon passed off, she was, during her few remaining years, free from distressing anxiety. She actively engaged in works of Christian charity,' presiding in the 'committee room' of Bible Societies, and becoming teacher in the Sunday Schools. Amid the fluctuations of hope and fear incident to her disease, she preserved in a good degree serenity of mind. She sustained her sickness with christian fortitude and patience, and died with composure and hope, leaving an example of sincerity, of faith, of disinterested zeal and benevolence.

The excellence of her private and social character cannot be doubted. She was averse to pretension and display, sensitive and timid, but active and persevering. She was warm and devoted in her attachments. With a love of literary occupation, she preserved a feminine character, and simplicity of taste and feelings, and never suffered a fondness for the gratifications of intellect, to withdraw her attention from the great practical interests of life.

Her writings afford evidence of good sense and principle; of mental vigor and sprightliness, though not of the utmost comprehension and richness, and not always of correct taste. As an author, her favorite provinces were those of imagination and moral sentiment, though in reading she manifested, particularly in her later years, a preference of works of history to fiction. The latter she read only occasionally in the moments of exhaustion, which followed her intellectual efforts. She was alive to the beautiful and sublime in natural objects; and combined humor with pensiveness, two qualities, which are not unfrequently found united, and which serve mutually to enrich and chasten each other.

Her poetry, though not of the highest order, is not destitute of merit. The Essays' afford the most favorable specimen

of her powers. These, to be sure, admit of no comparison with the ethical poetry of Pope. They want his keenness and pungency, his condensed manner, his terseness and exquisite finish. They more resemble in their general air, topics, and style, the productions of Cowper. Indeed, he appears, as has been often remarked, to have been her model. But she follows him with very unequal steps. She has not his genius; she wants his delicacy and strength of coloring, his richness, force, and compass. She resembles him in his love of simplicity and nature, but she selects her topics, illustrations, and imagery with much less judgment and taste. She falls below him in accuracy, in felicity of expression, and in those thousand nameless graces, which lend a peculiar charm to the productions of his muse. As a painter of domestic life, she has not the same faculty of imparting dignity and interest to familiar, and perhaps trivial scenes and incidents. His verse is occasionally homely and careless, hers often of a coarse texture, quaint, and slovenly. She differs from him as a religious poet, by a certain formality and awkwardness with which she introduces the ideas and language of the Bible. Her frequent use of scriptural expressions, often making up whole lines, gives to her verses something of a disjointed appearance. Still we are disposed to think favorably of the Essays. They show discrimination and knowledge of the heart; they contain a great deal of sound reflection, and many just views of life, and have passages of much vigor and neatness.

Of the Poetical Remains' contained in the present volume, if we except a small number, which had been previously given to the public in Magazines and Journals, no account is afforded by her biographer. On the whole, we confess we have read them with no slight feeling of disappointment. They are mostly short, and the subjects diversified, some light and some serious. As a specimen we give our readers the Remonstrance to Time,' originally published in the Associate Minstrels.' We are induced to select this, partly from the favorable opinion we entertain of its merit, and partly as being one of those pieces, which, her biographer tells us, are 'most characteristic of herself, and give a true portrait of her own mind.'

Stay, hoary Sage! one moment deign
To hear thy duteous child complain;
Nor scorn her pensive lay:

But while a suppliant at thy side,

Thy fearful scythe in pity hide,
And that old hour-glass throw aside;
They fright my song away.

Regardless of thy hoary age,
Thou indefatigable Sage,
Incessant is thy toil :

Thou canst, with an unnatural joy,
Thine own ingenious works destroy :
For 'tis thy favorite employ
To perfect and to spoil.

And Beauty's temple, Wisdom's brow,
Old Time! it well befits thee now,
With pains to decorate:
Scatter thy silver honors there,
But, O good father Time, forbear!
I ask thee not to deck my hair ;
It ill becomes thy state.

Go, bind thine ivy o'er the oak,
And spread thy rich embroidered cloak
Around his trunk the while;

Or deck with moss the abbey wall,
And paint grotesque the Gothic hall,
And sculpture, with thy chisel small,
The monumental pile :

But oh! from such majestic height,
Wilt thou, descending, stoop thy flight
To seek my lowly door?
What glory canst thou reap from me,
By all neglected, but by thee ?-
Consider thine own dignity,

And proudly pass me o'er.

-But false the hope! and vain the prayer!

Thy hand was never known to spare ;

Nor will thy speed delay:

Yet hear thy trembling victim's sigh;
If e'er thy microscopic eye
Perchance one youthful grace espy,
May that become thy prey!

Thy wrinkles, and thy locks of snow,
The choicest gifts thy hands bestow,
At those I do not start:

But come not thou, a treacherous guest,
To steal those feelings, dearest, best-
That glow that warms the youthful breast:-
With these I cannot part.

Oh! should such joys supplanted be
By frigid worldly policy,

And cold distrust ensue ;
Adieu, ye dear poetic powers,

And Fancy's fair enchanted bowers,
And all the sweets that once were ours,
A long, a sad adieu!

But is it in thy power to chill
Affection's dear transporting thrill,

And Friendship's fervid glow?

Ah! if thy cruel aim be this,
I shudder at thy marble kiss,
And clinging to my parting bliss,
Call bitter tears to flow.

But Sire, command these fears away :
Tell me, Affection's milder ray

Shall gild my wintry sky:

That hope my fainting spirit cheers,

Dispels my sighs, and dries my tears:
Angelic now thy form appears,

And mercy in thine eye.

pp. 167-9.

The fond partiality of her brother has led him to insert among the Remains,' some pieces which had been better omitted. They are, in fact, not worth preserving; we say more, they are injurious to the fame of the author. What could induce him to publish such lines as the following?

What though I cannot break my chain,

Or e'en throw off

my load ;

The things impossible to men,

Are possible to God.

Who, who shall in thy presence stand,

Or match Omnipotence ;

Unfold the grasp of thy right hand,
And pluck the sinner thence?

Faith to be healed, I fain would have-
O might it now be given!

Thou canst, thou wilt the sinner save,
And make him meet for heaven.

Bound down with twice ten thousand ties-
Yet let me hear thy call;

My soul with confidence shall rise,

Shall rise, and break through all.

Thou canst o'ercome this heart of mine,

Thou wilt victorious prove;

For everlasting strength is thine,
And everlasting love.

Pp. 206-7.

Miss Taylor's devotional poetry is altogether in bad taste. The sentiments introduced are trite, imagery often gross and degrading. following stanza on death.

Or these.

and the language and Take for example the

May none escape-the chosen few,
That Friendship fain would spare?
Nay, Death hath oft his favorites too,
And O, his taste is rare!

The crowd he often passes by-
To fix on suck his hollow eye.

Ye tempting sweets forbear

Ye dearest idols fall:
My love ye must not share;

Jesus shall have it all:

'Tis bitter pain-'tis cruel smart,
But O! thou must consent, my heart!

But must I part with all,

My heart still fondly pleads:
Yes-Dagon's self must fall:

It beats, it throbs, it bleeds:

Is there no balm in Gilead found

To soothe and heal the smarting wound?

P. 210.

Or these, which are strongly marked with mysticism.

The Saviour whom I long have sought,

And would, but cannot see—

And is he here? O wondrous thought!
And will he dwell with me?

p. 207.