not excepted. The golden compasses with which the Creator is described by the former as measuring the universe, excited the surprise of Gibbon,* who calls it "puerile in him, though such an image had been truly sublime in Homer. Our philosophical ideas of the deity are injurious to the poet. The same attributes debase our divinity which would have extolled the Jupiter of the Greeks. The sublime genius of Milton was cramped by the system of our religion, and never appeared to so great an advantage as when he shook it a little off; while, on the contrary, Propertius, a cold and insipid declaimer, owes all his reputation to the agreeable pictures of his mythology." This critic may, indeed, justly be considered as no unprejudiced witness, since his infidelity may have influenced his taste; but similar opinions are entertained by many whose intellectual integrity is liable to no suspicion. But, waiving all discussion of a topic which would be sufficient of itself to fill an article far less circumscribed than the present, another cause of fear for the success of this poem is in its length. It has been observed with some plausibility that the age of epics has past a remark equally applicable to all long poems, whatever be their nature, in an age when literary merchandise is judged by the weight, and the value of a book is inversely as its matter. Former critics would deny the claim of a rhymer to the title of poet, because he had not written enough.† At present, a similar conclusion is drawn from premises precisely the reverse, and a man shall cease to be applauded as a poet if he have written too much. Alas for the mutability of human tastes! On the other hand, a writer may derive consolation from these fluctuations, since they afford ground for probable calculation, that if the age of epics have gone by, it has not gone forever; the very existence of opposite opinions in ourselves, is an argument in favour of the revival of other ones in the generation that succeeds us—a reflection as well calculated to moderate the exultation of the popular, as to diminish the despondence of the unsuccessful. After an age of bigots, said Ganganelli, comes an age of freethinkers; and so long as the world we inhabit is proverbially a

changing world, the historian of the human mind may trace alike on all subjects continual alternation.

We cannot better conclude this article than with the lines on the power of poetry, in which Mr. Montgomery has so well asserted the dignity of his art.

"There is a living spirit in the lyre,

A breath of music, and a soul of fire;
It speaks a language to the world unknown,
It speaks that language to the bard alone;
While warbled symphonies entrance his ears,
That spirit's voice in every tone he hears;
Tis his the mystic meaning to rehearse,
To utter oracles in glowing verse,
Heroic themes from age to age prolong,
And make the dead in nature live in song.

Though graven rocks the warrior's deeds proclaim,
And mountains hewn to statues wear his name;
Though shrined in adamant his relics lie
Beneath a pyramid that scales the sky;
All that the eye admires shall pass away;

that the hand hath fashion'd shall decay;
The mouldering rocks the hero's hope shall fail,
Earthquakes shall heave the mountains to the vale,
The shrine of adamant betray its trust,
And the proud pyramid resolve to dust;
The lyre alone immortal fame secures,

For song alone through nature's change endures;
Transfused like life, from breast to breast it glows,
From sire to son by sure succession flows;
Speeds its unceasing flight from clime to clime,
Outstripping death upon the wings of time."

502

PHILIP OF POKANOKET.

AN INDIAN MEMOIR.

[The following anecdotes, illustrative of Indian character, are gathered from various sources, that have every appearance of being authentic. It was thought needless to encumber the page with references.]

Ir is to be regretted that those early writers, who treated of the discovery and settlement of our country, have not given us more frequent and candid accounts of the remarkable characters that flourished in savage life. The scanty anecdotes that have reached us are full of peculiarity and interest; they furnish us with nearer glimpses of human nature, and show what man is, in a comparatively primitive state, and what he owes to civilization. There is something of the charm of discovery, in happening upon these wild, unexplored tracts of human nature-in witnessing, as it were, the native growth of moral sentiment, and perceiving those generous and romantic qualities, which have been artificially wrought up by society, vegetating in spontaneous hardihood and rude magnificence.

In civilized life, where the happiness and almost existence of man depends so much upon public opinion, he is forever acting a part. The bold and peculiar traits of native character are refined away, or softened down by the levelling influence of what is termed good breeding, and he practises so many amiable deceptions, and assumes so many generous sentiments, for the purposes of popularity, that it is difficult to distinguish his real character from that which is acquired or affected. The Indian, on the contrary, free from the restraints and refinements of polished life, and living, in a great degree, solitary and independent, obeys the impulses of his inclination, or the dictates of his individual judgment, and thus the attributes of his nature, being freely indulged, grow singly great and striking. Society is like an artificial lawn, where every roughness is smoothed, every bramble eradicated, and the eye is delighted by the smiling verdure of a velvet surface; he, however, who would study nature in its wildness and variety, must plunge into

the forest, must explore the glen, must stem the torrent, and dare the precipice.

These reflections arose on casually looking through a volume of early provincial history, wherein are recorded, with great bitterness, the outrages of the Indians, and their wars with the settlers of New England. It is painful to perceive, even from those partial narratives, how the footsteps of civilization in this country may be traced in the blood of the original inhabitants; how easily the colonists were moved to hostility by the lust of conquest; how merciless and exterminating was their warfare. The imagination shrinks at the idea, how many intellectual beings were hunted from the earth; how many brave and noble hearts, of nature's sterling coinage, were broken down and trampled in the dust.

Such was the fate of PHILIP OF POKANOKET, an Indian warrior, whose name was once a terror throughout Massachusetts and Connecticut. He was the most distinguished of a number of cotemporary sachems, who reigned over the Pequods, the Narrhagansets, the Wampanoags, and the other eastern tribes, at the time of the first settlement of New England-a band of native, untaught heroes, who made the most generous struggle of which human nature is capable; fighting to the last gasp for the deliverance of their country, without a hope of victory or a thought of renown; worthy of an age of poetry, and fit subjects for local story and romantic fiction, they have left scarcely any authentic traces on the page of history, but stalk, like gigantic shadows, in the dim twilight of tradition.

When the pilgrims, as they are termed, first took refuge on the shores of the new world from the persecutions of the old, they found themselves in the most gloomy and helpless situation. Few in number, and that number rapidly perishing away by sickness and hardships; surrounded by a howling wilderness and savage tribes; exposed to the rigours of an almost arctic winter, and the vicissitudes of an ever shifting climate; their hearts were filled with the most gloomy forebodings, and nothing preserved them from sinking into utter despondency, but the strong excitement of religious enthu siasm. In this forlorn situation, they received from Massasoit, chief sagamore of the Wampanoags, the cheering rites of primitive hospitality.

This powerful prince, who reigned over a great extent

of country, came early in the spring, with a small retinue, to the new settlement of Plymouth; instead of taking advantage of the scanty numbers of the strangers, and expelling them from his territories, into which they had intruded, he entered into a solemn league of peace and amity, sold them a portion of the soil, and promised to secure to them the good will of his savage allies. Whatever may be said of Indian perfidy, it is certain that nothing appears to impeach the integrity and good faith of Massasoit. He continued a firm and generous friend of the white men, allowing them to extend and strengthen themselves in the land, and betraying no jealousy at their increasing power and prosperity. Shortly before his death he came once more to New Plymouth, with his son Alexander, to renew the covenant of peace, and to secure it to his posterity. In this treaty he endeavoured to protect the religion of his forefathers from the zealous attacks of the missionaries; he stipulated that no further attempt should be made to draw off his people from their ancient faith; but finding the English obstinately opposed to any such condition, he mildly relinquished the demand. Almost the last act of his life was to bring his two sons, Alexander and Philip, to the residence of a principal settler, recommending mutual kindness and confidence, and entreating that the same love and amity which had existed between the white men and himself, might be continued afterwards with his children. The good old sachem died in peace, and was happily gathered to his fathers before sorrow came upon his tribe-his children remained behind to experience the gratitude of white men.

His eldest son, Alexander, who succeeded him, soon incurred the hostilities of the settlers. He was of a quick and impetuous temper, and proudly tenacious of his hereditary rights and dignity. The intrusive policy and dictatorial conduct of the strangers excited his indignation; and he beheld with alarm their merciless and exterminating wars against the neighbouring tribes. Whether authorized by fact, or dictated by suspicion, he was accused of plotting with the Narrhagansets to rise against the English, and drive them from the land. The proceedings of the settlers show the rapid increase of their power, and their overbearing conduct towards the natives. They despatched an armed force to seize upon Alexander, and bring him before their court. He