the dignity of the priestly ruler ;-the wild and frenzied heroism of Saul;--the various gifts and graces of the unrivalled Monarch Minstrel, and the splendid pageant of his brilliant son and successor ! How distinctly all these and a hundred other characters stand out from the canvass, demonstrating by the strongest internal evidence to every experienced eye, that they are not fancy pieces, but portraits from the life! What charming apparitions of female grace and heroism beam forth from the midst of this throng of warriors, priests, and poets! The beauty of Sarah, that subdued all hearts even at the brilliant court of Egypt ;--the touching self-devotion of the daughter of Jepthah;-the poetical enthusiasm of Miriam ;the masculine valor of Deborah and Judith ;-finally, the farfamed Egyptian bride, whose praise will live forever, embalmed in the song of songs, which is Solomon's ! Let us select, at the risk of being tedious, from this long list of characters, one or two of the more conspicuous, and dwell upon them a little more particularly. Glance, for a inoment, gentlemen, at the great lawgiver; the first, humanly viewed, of what Bacon declares to be the first class of great men, the founders of nations. Of humble origin, he is thrown by chance into the midst of the most powerful, learned, and luxurious court of his time. He is the favorite of the sovereign's daughter. Wealth and beauty waste their blandishments upon him. What will he become? Probably an effeminate courtier,-at best a book-learned priest,-a bold ambitious warrior ;- a sagacious politician ;-the Talleyrand of the Nile. Ah, no! Beneath that ample forehead the eye of genius burns undimmed by the corrupting influence of a courtly atmosphere, but with no impure or selfish flame. In the palaces of their oppressors, his heart beats with patriotic sympathy for the wrongs of his people. In the ardor of his zeal, he is driven to an act of violence which withdraws him from the circle of the court, and sends him forth for a while to lead the life of his shepherd ancestors in the plains of Midian. But the vision of his injured countrymen pursues him to his retreat, and he forms the magnificent project of redeeming them from bondage, and establishing them as an independent nation in their ancient territory of Palestine. Behold him reappearing, no longer the favorite of the sovereign's daughter, but an exile, stained with blood, unprotected, unprovided with human means, at the splendid court of the Pharaohs, to demand the liberation of his countrymen! What will be his fortune? In all human probability,— by the aid of only human means,-disgraceful failure in his project; --for himself, untimely destruction. Idle terrors! He comes authorized from above. What grand and terrible displays of power attest his mission! At the voice of the obscure exile, the great river of Egypt runs blood: darkness shrouds her territory: death enters every dwelling from the cottage of the laborer to the splendid palaces of Thebes and Memphis, until the last act of retributive justice swallows up in the floods of the Red Sea, the hosts of the still unsubdued and false-hearted oppressor. Emancipation is effected. The harder task remains of organizing this scattered tribe of liberated slaves into a body politic. Will the steady patriot,—the dauntless champion,—the successful leader of the people understand the mysteries of political science? Will he be able to arrange, with all the necessary checks and balances, the complicated machinery of a new constitution? Fear not for him, man of many books! He possesses a source of information more certain than any of your theories, richer than all the pigeon-holes of all the constitutionmakers. He is inspired by the fear and love of God which are the end as well as the beginning of wisdom. He builds his political structure on the Rock of Ages: the gates of Hell cannot and will not prevail against it. Then was revealed to the world, for the first time, the beautiful spectacle of a political constitution founded in truth, justice, and equal rights. It was revealed for the perpetual instruction of all succeeding generations. Amid the changing forms of national existence, it survives, and will survive for ever, the substantial basis of the legislation of Christendom. The lawgiver has accomplished his mission: his work is done. It remains for younger and bolder spirits to remove the last obstacles, and open the way with the sword to the field where this great political experiment must be tried. But does no alloy of ambition mingle with the lofty purposes of the venerable Founder? Will he willingly resign to others in his old age the control of the nation which he has been the instrument of creating? Behold him on the top of Mount Pisgah casting a single glance of hope and joy at the promised abode of his people, and then cheerfully investing with the robe of authority his chosen successor. What remains to crown his already unrivalled name? The laurel of the poet adorns the thoughtful brow of the veteran statesman. The voice that marshalled the people to freedom,-that proclaimed the constitution and the laws, --through life celebrates their achievements in fervid strains of poetry, and breathes its last sigh in a song of praise and blessing on the tribes. Such, gentlemen, was the great Hebrew lawgiver: in a merely secular view, perhaps the highest name in human history. Less imposing, but still more engaging and attractive, is the far famed "monarch minstrel." He, too, combines the various glories of statesman, warrior, and poet. To him belongs the merit of raising the tribes from the precarious condition of a number of scattered settlements, intermingled with still unsubdued, and, not unfrequently, victorious enemies, into one united, powerful, prosperous state. Under him the vision of the great Founder is for the first time fully realized, and the chosen people assume an independent rank among the nations of the earth. In his military character the highest warlike talents,-dauntless courage, pushed to the verge of rashness,―unerring judgment,-prompt decision,-indefatigable activity,―are accompanied by tenderness for the fallen foe,-contempt for self-indulgence,—devotion to the sex,-respect for religion, -in short, all the fairest graces of the most improved states of civilization. Behold him at the cave of Adullam, dashing from his parched lips the untasted water from the well of Beth-lehem that had been too dearly purchased by the jeopardy of precious blood! Behold him in the wilderness of En-gedi, sparing the life of his deadly foe who at the same moment is pursuing him with the rage of insanity! In all his relations to Saul, what considerate kindness,-what noble forbearance under the most revolting injuries! We seem to see the principle of good encountering that of evil in personal conflict, and overcoming it by the gentle weapons of kindness and charity. In his intercourse with Jonathan, what romantic friendship,-what sincere devotion! We feel, as we read it, that there is no empty show in the charming lament which I just now quoted over the fallen Beauty of Israel. No character in therecords of Christian chivalry at its brightest periods,-not the fearless and faultless Bayard,—not the perfect Alfred himself, exemplifies so completely what that famous institution was or should have been. But with all his merit as a warrior and statesman, the gift by which he rises highest in comparison with the great of other ages and nations, is undoubtedly that of Poetry. Philosophy and song have rarely taken up their abode in palaces, and when they have done so they have generally put on a loose and gallant dress accommodated to the scene around them. When the chivalry of Europe, in the middle ages, cultivated literature, it dwindled very soon into a gay science, to use the language of the time, comprehending little but romances and light love songs. Even in the hands of Solomon, the lyre of his lofty father begins already to send forth a softened and somewhat effeminate strain. In the works of David, for the first and only time in the history of the world, the sublime idea of Religion, that concentrated essence of all truth,-is embodied in the highest strains of poetry. Compare these divine odes with the best lyric poetry of any other nation. Compare them,-I will not say with Anacreon, with Sappho, with the lighter portions of Horace, or with Moore, poets professedly of a free and almost licentious cast,—but compare them with all that ancient or modern lyric bards have furnished most excellent in sublimity, pathos, and moral beauty: compare them with Pindar,—with Horace in his highest flights,—with the French Rousseau,--the German Klopstock, Schiller, Burger,-the English Milton, Dryden, and Gray.--Of the whole list, Pindar alone sustains the comparison with some degree of success,--so far as the mere form of composition is concerned,-by the power, splendor, and fullness of his style. "Pindar," says his Latin imitator, "like a river descending from a mountain, and swelled by copious rains above its banks, pours forth the vast, deep, boiling torrent of his song." Pindarum quisquis studet æmulari, Jule! ceratis ope dædalea Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus Nomina ponto. Monte decurrens, velut amnis, imbres Fervet immensusque ruit profundo Pindarus ore. 1 Splendid, and as respects the mere form of composition, not unmerited eulogy! But how poor and mean are his subjects, when compared with those of David! Of Pindar, more truly, perhaps, than of any other writer, we may say, that the workmanship excelled the stuff. Materiem superabat opus. What a waste of the richest gifts of mind to commemorate the triumphs of the raceground and the wrestling match,—to adorn the interminable fables of a childish and corrupt mythology! In the matchless odes of David, on the other hand, as I just now remarked, the finest poetry is employed to embody the most profound wisdom. His only subject is Religion,-sublime, beautiful, pure, and true,-as she reveals herself to the highest contemplations of the noblest minds. But is not this devotional language a mere lip-service? a form of sound words employed by the king to set a good example to his court? Ah, no! Religion is his pride, his delight, his passion. There is no mistake about his meaning. His poetry is a boiling flood, like that of Pindar, though heated with a far different fire. Every verse is alive, breathing, burning, throbbing with unaffected sentiment. Whence, then, comes this sudden burst of light and glory from the centre of the deepest intellectual and moral darkness? How happens it that the ruler of a little semi-barbarous eastern state has reached in his odes a height of sublimity, pathos, moral and religious truth, which Pindar never dreamed of, and Milton vainly sought to imitate? Answer, infidelity! Answer, scepticism! When you have done your best in vain, Faith supplies the solution with a word. Ah, splendid bard! could but a ray of your divine inspiration have fallen upon that wayward heart which was destined three thousand years afterwards to celebrate with not unequal powers of verse your unfading glory! The harp the monarch minstrel swept, O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,- |