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They listen'd, fear-struck, to my songs, methought,
And truly songs like mine are ting'd with gloom:
But neither roseate hues nor flowers' perfume
Will now avail them—nor the thousand charms
Of worldly vanity—they fill my arms—
They are my brides—their bridal bed the tomb."*

The poem thus concludes:

"And since 'tis certain then that we must die,
No hope, no chance, no prospect of redress—
Be it our constant aim, unswervingly
To tread God's narrow path of holiness:
For He is first, last, midst—O, let us press
Onwards—and when Death's monitory glance
Shall summon us to join his mortal dance,
Even then shall hope and joy our footsteps bless."t

Besides this work, another, written in the same measure, is attributed to this author. It is the relation of a vision seen by a holy hermit when praying. A corpse is introduced, putrified, with worms devouring it, and behind it is something in the form of a white bird, which represents the disembodied soul; the latter hurls the most dreadful curses at the decaying body, which are again retorted, each accusing the other of having caused its eternal damnation.

Of Solomon Halevi, (born in Burgos in 1350,) who, having

* " A esta mi danca traxe de presente
estas dos donsellas, que bedes formosas
ellas vinieron de muy mala mente
a oyr mis canciones que son dolorosas
mas non les baldran flores nin rosas
nin las composturas que poner solian
de mi sy pudieren partirse queirian
mas non puede ser que son mios eposas."

t " Pues que asy es que a morir avernos

de necesidad syn otro remedio

con pura con§ienc,ia todos trabajemos

en servir a Dios. Syn otro comedio

ca el es principe fyn e el medio

por do sy le piase abremos folgura

aunque la muerte un danca mui dura

nos meta en su corro en qualquier comedio."

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been converted to Christianity, is better known by the name of Pablo de Santa Maria, a contemporary poet says, that " he possessed all human learning, all the secrets of high philosophy; he was a masterly theologian—a sweet orator—an admirable historian—a subtle poet—a clear and veracious narrator—an excellent minister—one of whom every body spoke well." "'Twas my delight," he continues:

"'Twas my delight to sit with him

Beneath the solemn ivy tree—
To hide me from the sunny beam

Beneath the laurel's shade, and see
The little silver streamlet flowing;

While from his lips a richer stream
Fell, with the light of wisdom glowing—

How sweet to slake my thirst with him !"*

Having brought the literary history of the Spanish Jews down to the end of the fourteenth century, and finding that the matter which now crowds upon us will make it impossible for us to condense what remains to be said on this head into this paper, we shall defer the rest to another article, when we shall again

* " La moral ssabiduria
las leyes e los decretos
los naturales ssecretos
de la alta philosophia
la ssacra teologia
la dulce arte oratoria
toda virisima ystoria
toda ssotil poesia.

Oy perdieron vn notable
e ualiente cavallero
vn relator claro e vero
vn ministro comendable
quien dara loor loable, &c.

La yedra sso cuyas ramas
yo tanto me delectava
el laurel que aquellas flamas
ardientes del sol temprana
a cuya sonbra yo citana
la fontana clara e fria
donde yo la grant ssed mia
de preguntar saijiava," &c.

turn back to the Moorish poei its influence on that of the

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we shall go pretty extensively into the merits of the Trobadores; and lastly, trace the progress of Castilian poetry in its different epochs, down to the golden age of Spanish literature.

Art. II.—The Temple, Sacred Poems, and private Ejaculations, by Mr. George Herbert, late Orator of the University of

The poems of George Herbert would present such a mass of uninviting and even repulsive matter to modern readers of poetry, who are accustomed to look for sonnets, and not sermons or tabernacle canticles, in a volume dedicated to the Muses, that we really think we shall be doing them service, as well as performing a duty to the memory of an excellent and most ingenious man, by making a selection of a few of his happiest thoughts in verse.—George Herbert is best known to the world, as having been the intimate friend of Sir Henry Wotton, and as having met with an able biographer in the celebrated Isaac Walton.—His career was closed just before the contests between Charles the First and his parliament had reached their height. The part he would have taken, therefore, in the scenes which followed, can be only conjectured; but his great attachment to Episcopacy, and to the services of the church of Eng

Jeremy Taylor, a faithful though perhaps quiet adherent to the crown. In his early days, indeed, he seems to have had no dislike of worldly honours. While orator of the University of Cambridge, his biographer has fairly told us " he enjoyed his genteel humour for clothes, and court-like company, and seldom looked towards Cambridge, unless the king were there: but then he never failed: and at other times left the management of his orator's place, to his learned friend Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now prebend of Westminster."—This love of princely favour met its due reward, and James gave him a sinecure—the same, as it happened, by a remarkable coincidence, as that which Queen Elizabeth had formerly given to her favourite Sir Philip Sidney, and worth £120 per annum.

For the mortification of Herbert's worldly desires, and the increase of his heavenly ones, he soon after lost his two most powerful friends, the Duke of Richmond, and the Marquis of Hamilton. These losses were followed by the death of King James himself, and with him died Mr- Herbert's court hopes.—

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London, 1656.

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retained him, along with

t Not, it should candidly be owned, for want of aliment, for he still retained many friends among the rich and great; but from the confirmation which these changes brought to a mind, naturally reflective, and formed for something much better than to be a mere admirer of royal greatness, of the uncertainty of worldly expectations. His mother's wishes and entreaties had long secretly influenced his desires towards the ministry; and at length, after some sharp conflicts between his love of a court-life, and his sense of the importance of the clerical character, he resolved to take orders. "I will labour," said he to one who opposed this resolution, "I will labour to make the name of a priest honourable, by consecrating all my learning, and all my poor abilities, to advance the glory of that God that gave them—knowing that I can never do too much for him, that hath done so much for me as to make me a Christian."—From this resolution it does not appear that he ever swerved. In 1626, he was made Prebend of Layton Ecclesia. The parish church of this place was almost fallen down, and so out of repair, that the parishioners could not meet for the performance of public worship. Thus it had been for twenty years—till Mr. Herbert set himself to work to re-build it. His mother, alarmed at the expense and trouble he was bringing upon himself, sent for him to Chelsea, where she lived. " George," said she, " I sent for you, to persuade you to commit simony, by giving your patron as good a gift as he has given you; namely, that you give him back his prebend: for, George, it is not for your weak body and empty purse, to undertake to build churches."—Herbert, however, carried his point, and showed his mother such reasons for his resolution, that he fully satisfied her on the subject, and appears to have completed his work without involving himself or her in any difficulties.— His orator's place he gave up, upon her death in 1627. Soon after, he married, took orders, and was presented to the Rectory of Bemerton by the particular desire of Dr. afterwards Archbishop Laud, and Dr. Davenant, Bishop of Salisbury. Herbert was now thirty-six years of age. His life, which lasted but three years longer from this time, appears to have united the sanctity of a devotee, with the activity of a philanthropist. "At his induction to the Rectory of Bemerton," says IsaacWalton, "being left in the church alone, to toll the bell, (as the law requires) he staid so much longer than an ordinary time, before he returned to those friends that staid expecting him at the church door, that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in at the church window, and saw him lie prostrate on the ground before the altar: at which time and place, (as he after told Mr. Woodnot,) he set some rules to himself for the future manage of his life, and then and there made a vow to labour to keep them."—The account of his life, as a country clergyman, given by his own bio

grapher, does not offer much variety. It appears to have been passed in exercises of piety, such as would be thought extravagant by the strictest of the strict in our times, and in performing the most humble and self-denying offices of charity to all within his reach.—Here he wrote "The Country Parson," a little prose work, containing his own views of the duty of a clergyman, which was after his death printed.—His poems were published during his life-time, and with considerable success.—After a lingering and painful illness, Herbert died, breathing out pious and cheerful ejaculations to Heaven with his latest breath.—" I wish," says IsaacWalton," if God shall be so pleased, that I may be so happy as to die like him."—

To pass from the consideration of his private life, to the discussion of his literary claims.—He appears to have been an excellent scholar. As a Greek student, indeed, his merit was acknowledged by many of the first scholars of his own and foreign countries. His long literary and private friendship with Sir Henry Wotton and Dr. Donne, show the estimation in which he was held by them. He was cotemporary for some years with Cowley ; but we are not informed whether these men had formed any personal friendship ; probably not, as Cowley, though very early known to fame, had hardly finished his university education at the period of Herbert's death.—Dr. Donne, whose peculiar style of composition Johnson has so ably criticized in his life of Cowley, probably was Herbert's model, as well as friend; but, if it were so, the natural genius of the latter occasionally burst forth into strains far sweeter and more natural than those of the worthy Doctor.—-The following lines on Virtue, though defaced by a vulgar expression or two, are, on the whole, both beautiful and polished.

Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright!

The bridal of the earth and sky:

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night.—

For thou must die.
Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye:
Thy root is ever in the grave,—

And thou must die.
Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses:
A box where sweets compacted lie:
My music shows you have your closes,

And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives,
But, though the whole world turns to coal,

Then chiefly lives.

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