Such is the real character, and such the success, of all these little facetious, frolicsome attacks upon the great pillars of human repose. These supports resist the storm and the tempest, the loud and boisterous agitation of those angry elements that vex the moral world; God's threatenings pass by and spare; but when a few human hands begin the work of undermining, with their little implements of mattock and spade, digging away the earth, until the foundation is laid bare, then the slightest impulse suffices to bring to the dust the fairest fabric of man's labour, and the monument of ages. Society reels and totters when its fastenings and stays are loosened, and the solid ground loses its tenacity, and forsakes the base; while civil commotions, and even revolutions, with all their dire concomitants, will often leave the moral structure fundamentally and vitally whole. There is but one way, says the ingenious lady from whom we have already quoted, of resisting this influence (speaking of the influence of French ridicule), and that consists in very decided national habits and character. And we are quite of the same opinion, only perhaps a little differing from her as to the extent and comparative dignity of the great formative principles of national character. We are not among those who rejoice in the cosmopolitan liberality, which has of late years become a marked feature in the system of British philosophy. If it arose from a Christian enlargement of sentiment, like that which animates our societies for carrying to foreign parts the blessings of God's Holy Word, it would at least have commanded our respect; but as, to speak the truth, we impute it rather to a growing indifference to the distinction of moral worth, than to any Christian expansion of benevolence, we cannot hold it in any high estimation. We dread an amalgamation with the Continent: we feel quite persuaded that our nationality and our morality have so long mutually upheld each other that they cannot be separated without mutual injury. No one can have paid any attention to the aspect of society in this country, since the late revolution in France, and the gradual change in the colours of its fashions and habits, without marking the growing indications of a denationalizing spirit, an unconcernedness about our honour, or exploits, our prosperity; and, worst of all, a decay of that masculine decency, and sobriety, and soundness of sentiment, which, about half a century ago, made us dread the contagion of French or Italian manners, and placed us in a proud security above the reach of their pollutions.

It is impossible not to see all this with hearts too serious to suffer us to read much of the best poetry of the present day, with pleasure or pride, the great aim of which is to shake the basis of that felicity, which is laid in female honour, and virtuous

love. On various other occasions, and particularly in our remarks upon the poems of Mr. Moore, and the former productions of Lord Byron, we have spoken out very decidedly on the scandalous objects to which some of the best efforts of the British Muse have been devoted; we shall, therefore, conclude our observations on this little piece of rhyming mischief, with an extract or two, in which such of our readers as have not had the work in their hands, may have a specimen of the spirit and tone in which it is written, without any sacrifice on our parts of the dignity and decency of our pages. The parts we shall select, to become intelligible, will not require the story to be told, which is, in truth, nothing but a trumpery narrative of a lady and her gallant, and a base acquiescing husband, who, nevertheless, is presented to us as a person of sense and worth.

England! with all thy faults I love thee still,'

I said at Calais, and have not forgot it;

I like to speak and lucubrate my fill;

1

I like the government (but that is not it);

I like the freedom of the press and quill;

I like the Habeas Corpus (when we have got it);
Llike a parliamentary debate,

+ Particularly when 'tis not too late;

"I like the taxes, when they're not too many;
I like a seacoal fire, when not too dear;

"I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any;
Have no objection to a pot of beer;

I like the weather, when it is not rainy,

That is, I like two months of every year.

And so God save the Regent, Church, and King!
Which means that I like all and every thing.

"Our standing army, and disbanded seamen,
Poor's rate, Reform, my own, the nation's debt,
Our little riots just to show we are free men,

Our trifling bankruptcies in the Gazette,
Our cloudy climate, and our chilly women,
All these I can forgive, and those forget,
And greatly venerate our recent glories,
And wish they were not owing to the Tories.

But to my tale of Laura,—for I find
Digression is a sin, that by degrees
Becomes exceeding tedious to my mind,

And, therefore, may the reader too displease
The gentle reader, who may wax unkind,
And caring little for the author's ease,
Insist on knowing what he means, a hard
And hapless situation for a bard.

5

"Oh that I had the art of easy writing
What should be easy reading! could I scale
Parnassus, where the Muses sit inditing

Those pretty poems never known to fail,
How quickly would I print (the world delighting)
A Grecian, Syrian, or Assyrian tale;
And sell you, mix'd with western sentimentalism,
Some samples of the finest Orientalism.

"But I am but a nameless sort of person,
(A broken Dandy lately on my travels)
And take for rhyme, to hook my rambling verse on,
The first that Walker's Lexicon unravels,
And when I can't find that, I put a worse on,
Not caring as I ought for critic's cavils;
I've half a mind to tumble down to prose,
But verse is more in fashion-so here goes!"
Again,

(P. 23-26.)

"The morning now was on the point of breaking,
A turn of time at which I would advise

Ladies who have been dancing, or partaking
In any other kind of exercise,

To make their preparations for forsaking
The ball-room ere the sun begins to rise,
Because when once the lamps and candles fail,
His blushes make them look a little pale.

"I've seen some balls and revels in my time,
And staid them over for some silly reason,
And then I looked, (I hope it was no crime,)
To see what lady best stood out the season;
And though I've seen some thousands in their prime,
Lovely and pleasing, and who still may please on,
I never saw but one, (the stars withdrawn,)
Whose bloom could after dancing dare the dawn.
"The name of this Aurora I'll not mention,
Although I might, for she was nought to me
More than that patent work of God's invention,
A charming woman, whom we like to see;
But writing names would merit reprehension,
Yet if you like to find out this fair she,

At the next London or Parisian ball

You still may mark her cheek, out-blooming all." (P. 40, 41.) We wish we could have parted better friends with the author of Beppo, whoever he may be, for we cannot help respecting his genius. We rather hope that those will be found right in their conjecture who have ascribed it to Lord Byron himself; for, under all circumstances, we do not wish for a duplicate of that eccentric nobleman. Such is the value of correct opinion, and

a right moral feeling, among Britons at this moment, that we cannot afford to be amused at the expense of decency, and delicacy, and principle. We have no right, however, to take it for granted that Beppo is Lord Byron's; and as his Lordship has given us so much painful employment in the examination of his avowed performances, we do not wish to multiply this task upon ourselves, by assuming what is not ascertained. According to the advertisements, we are soon to have before us another Canto of the Childe Harold. We shall be happy to find in it some reparation for the injury done to the cause of virtue and religion by those which have appeared; and dread, for his sake, the accumulation of that fearful accountability which accompanies the gift of such great talents as unquestionably belong to him. We shall not fail to bestow upon it that honest criticism which the important productions of his genius have, we are sure, always experienced from us, whose pens are obedient to no motives or influences but the love of our dear country, its mind, and its character.

ART. III.-CAMBRIDGE PREACHERS.

1. A Course of Sermons, preached at Great Saint Mary's Church, before the University of Cambridge, during the Month of April, 1816. By the Rev. William Sharpe, A. M. Chaplain of Trinity College, Cambridge. The Second Edition, with an Appendix. 8vo. pp. 144. Rivingtons. London, 1817. 2. A Theological Inquiry into the Sacrament of Baptism, and the Nature of Baptismal Regeneration, in five Discourses, preached before the University of Cambridge, in April, 1817. By the Rev. C. Benson, M. A. Member of Trinity College, and Lecturer of St. John's, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 8vo. pp. 110. Rivingtons. London, 1817.

3. The True Test of Religion in the Soul: or Practical Christianity Delineated. A Sermon preached before the University of Cambridge, March 9, 1817. By the Rev. Charles Simeon, M. A. Fellow of King's College. 8vo. pp. 25. Cadell and Davies. London, 1817.

Ir has been often remarked, that the ruin of any establishment more frequently proceeds from itself than from extraneous sources. An external shock often conduces to brace the system and confirm its stability; but when the symptoms of decay arise from an internal source, they are usually of a slow, but at the

same time of a progressive and destructive nature. This remark seems especially applicable to our revered ecclesiastical establishment; in which we are not afraid that the irruptions of hostile violence will ever make any very alarming conquest while the citadel remains safely guarded from within. But should a time ever arrive in which defection, strife, ostentation, apathy, or other injurious characteristics and dispositions, followed by a corres ponding system of conduct, shall dissolve the internal supports of our church establishment, we cannot doubt that it must speedily hasten to its downfall. Viewing the affair in this serious aspect, and connecting with the possible dissolution of the established religion, the subversion of not a little that is good and lovely, not a little that is conducive to the morals, the happiness, and the eternal safety of mankind, we cannot express the anxiety we have ever felt in witnessing the prevalence of those qualities which must, in proportion as they extend, prove the fruitful sources of danger and dilapidation.

In making the preceding remarks, we are perfectly aware that we have placed upon an equal footing things which, in the opinion of but too many persons, are not only totally distinct, but appear greatly to vary in their comparative measure of importance. To not a few men, even of intellect and learning, the preservation of scriptural purity of doctrine appears a point of very subordinate moment to the inculcation of virtue of life; or, in other words, they imagine that it is of very little consequence what we think, at least on the controversial parts of Christianity, as long as we are not vicious in our ordinary deportment. To persons of this description, the works enumerated at the head of this paper will, of course, appear wholly unnecessary and uninteresting. Whether baptism be, or be not, inseparably connected with regeneration; whether conversion to God be necessary, and what is its nature, and what are its effects; whether we are justified in the Divine sight by faith or by works, or by neither, or by both, must be considered, by such readers, as subjects very unworthy of intellectual speculation. We need not say that such is not our own feeling; for if Christianity be really what it professes to be, a revelation from God of the utmost importance to mankind, and involving all our best and dearest interests, both for the present and the future world, it cannot be a matter of slight importance, whether or not we are duly acquainted with its characters and nature, so far, at least, as is necessary to secure our own salvation.

On these grounds, then, among others; we do not object to the legitimate and temperate discussion of religious subjects, even when that discussion assumes something of a controversial form. We would not, indeed, proceed to the length of the Rev. John