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354

OF COMPOSITIONS IN VERSE.

Of the various arts practised by mankind, some appear at a much earlier period than others; some indeed are of so early a date, that it is impossible to discover their origin; their existence seems as if it were the effect of inspiration. Of this kind are poetry and music, which, like language, have been found wherever men have been found. Music may, perhaps, be justly considered as much the expression of feeling, as language is of thought, and to express feeling and thought together, was probably the desire of men, when music was "married to immortal verse;" as there is in the one a measure correspondent to the other: and it is well known, that the early poetical compositions of rude nations, were not meant to be spoken, but to be sung, and were generally accompanied by the lyre, the harp, or some other instrument peculiar to the people, among whom the songs originated.

The sentiments of Milton, are not indeed supported by historical facts, but it is by no means extravagant to suppose, as he has done, that poetry and music were employed by our first parents in Paradise. The

morning devotion of the primeval pair, is thus beauti

fully described:

"From under shady arborous roof,
Soon as they forth were come to open sight
Of day-spring, and the sun who scarce uprisen
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean brim,
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray,
Discovering in wide landscape all the east
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bowed adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid
In various style: for neither various style
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounc'd or sung
Unmeditated, such prompt eloquence

Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse,
More tunable than needed lute or harp,

To add more sweetness."

The earliest annals of all nations furnish us with vestiges of poetry; they are found equally in the accounts of the most ancient nations, and in those of savage and barbarous tribes, of whatever colour, discovered in various parts of the world in modern times.

One of the most ancient specimens of poetical composition now extant, is that recorded in 15th chapter of Exodus, as having been sung by Moses and the children of Israel, to celebrate their deliverance at the Red Sea. It appears, too, that on this occasion instrumental music and poetry were joined, for we read

that "Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dances. And Miriam answered them, Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.”

True poetry is generally distinguished from prose by a peculiar elevation of thought; by a greater use of figurative language; by more frequent inversions of style; and by rhythm or measure; which results from a regular succession of long and short, or of accented and unaccented syllables. To these peculiarities modern nations in general have superadded rhyme, by which is meant a recurrence of similar terminations at the end of succeeding or alternate verses. The last distinction, however, is not essential to poetry; it was unknown in the languages of Greece and Rome, as it is also in some of the most admired productions of our native tongue.

To ascertain the nature of poetry by a consideration of its effects, and to arrange poetical productions under different heads according to their objects, belong to the critic and the man of taste; but to tell of its influence on the mind, must be left to the votary of the muses himself; and this has been happily effected by Gray in the following passage.

"Oh! sovereign of the willing soul,

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Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen cares,

And frantic passions, hear thy soft control.
On Thracia's hills the lord of war
Has curb'd the fury of his car,

And dropp'd his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the sceptred hand

Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king

With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:

Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber, lie

The terror of his beak and lightning of his eye.

"Thee the voice, the dance obey,

Tempered to thy warbling lay:
O'er Idalia's velvet green

The rosy crowned loves are seen.

On Cytherea's day,

With antic sports and blue-eyed pleasures,

Frisking light in frolic measures;

Now pursuing, now retreating,

Now in circling troops they meet;
To brisk notes, in cadence beating,

Glance their many twinkling feet.

Slow melting strains their queen's approach declare:
Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay.
With arms sublime, that float upon the air,

In gliding state she wins her easy way;

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move

The bloom of young desire, and purple light of love.

"Hark, his hands the lyre explore!

Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er,

Scatters from her pictured urn

Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.

But, ah! 'tis heard no more

Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit

Wakes thee now? though he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,

That the Theban eagle bear,

Sailing with

supreme dominion

Through the azure deep of air:

Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the muse's ray,
With orient hues unborrow'd of the sun:

Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the good how far - but far above the great."

The creative power of poetry is admirably pourtrayed by the bold pencil of Shakspeare, in the following lines:

"The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,

And as imagination bodies forth

The form of things unknown, the poet's pen

Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing

A local habitation, and a name."

Of the nature and effects of the poetic art, the sweet strains of the minstrel give no imperfect idea:

"But hail, ye mighty masters of the lay,

Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth!

Whose songs, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,

Amused my childhood, and informed my youth.
O! let your spirit still my bosom sooth;

Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide!
Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth;
For well I know, wherever ye reside,

There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide."

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