ng. Oxford has produced many true
poets; Collins, Warton, Bowles, Heber, Milman, and now Keble--are all
her own--her inspired sons. Their strains are not steeped in "port and
prejudice;" but in the--Isis. Heaven bless Iffley and Godstow--and many
another sweet old ruined place--secluded, but not far apart from her own
inspiring Sanctities! And those who love her not, never may the Muses
love!

SACRED POETRY.

CHAPTER IV.

In his Poem, entitled, "The Omnipresence of the Deity," Mr Robert
Montgomery writes thus,--

"Lo! there, in yonder fancy-haunted room,
What mutter'd curses trembled through the gloom,
When pale, and shiv'ring, and bedew'd with fear,
The dying sceptic felt his hour drew near!
From his parch'd tongue no sainted murmurs fell,
No bright hopes kindled at his faint farewell;
As the last throes of death convulsed his cheek,
He gnash'd, and scowl'd, and raised a hideous shriek,
Rounded his eyes into a ghastly glare,
Lock'd his white lips--and all was mute despair!
Go, child of darkness, see a Christian die;
No horror pales his lip, or rolls his eye;
No dreadful doubts, or dreamy terrors, start
The hope Religion pillows on his heart,
When with a dying hand he waves adieu
To all who love so well, and weep so true:
Meek as an infant to the mother's breast
Turns fondly longing for its wonted rest,
He pants for where congenial spirits stray,
Turns to his God, and sighs his soul away."

First, as to the execution of this passage. "Fancy-haunted" may do, but
it is not a sufficiently strong expression for the occasion. In every
such picture as this, we demand appropriate vigour in every word
intended to be vigorous, and which is important to the effect of the
whole.

"From his parch'd tongue no sainted murmurs fell,
No bright hopes kindled at his faint farewell."

How could they?--The line but one before is,

"What mutter'd curses trembled through the gloom."

This, then, is purely ridiculous, and we cannot doubt that Mr Montgomery
will confess that it is so; but independently of that, he is describing
the deathbed of a person who, _ex hypothesi_, could have no bright
hopes, could breathe no sainted murmurs. He might as well, in a
description of a negress, have told us that she had no long, smooth,
shining, yellow locks--no light-blue eyes--no ruddy and rosy cheeks--nor
yet a bosom white as snow. The e