heaven; every tear which they shed, is preserved in the bottle of God. Why, then, should not their memories be dear to us, for whom they bled and for whom they died? But it is not only that we may pay them our debt of gratitude, that we ought to acquaint ourselves with their lives; it is that we may gather humility from their lowliness; faith from their trust in God; courage from their heavensustained fortitude; warmth from the flame of their devotion, and hope from their glorious success."

Mr. POLLOK conceived the project of another work, which he had intended to compose and publish, and which, it is to be regretted, he did not live to write. It was "A Review of Literature in all ages, designed to show that Literature must stand or fall in proportion as it harmonizes with Scripture Revelation." This was a work which required of its author, in an eminent degree, genius, talent, learning, and religious knowledge; and in which much time, untiring patience, deep research, and unwavering faithfulness, would have been necessarily exercised. Yet his lofty mind had conceived the grand idea of executing such a work, which fact alone reflects great honor on his talents as a scholar and his enthusiasm as a Christian.

We cannot conclude this brief sketch of the life, talents, character, and productions of Mr. POLLOK better than by copying the language of one who wrote his Memoir, from which several extracts have been taken, and who in life loved him with a brother's love. In alluding to his death, he says: "He has gone the way of all the earth; and his spirit, we fondly hope, is among the spirits of the just made perfect, who, by faith and patience, are now inheriting the promises.' But he lives in the hearts of his friends, who think of him with fond regret; he lives in the hearts of his countrymen; and his praise is not only in the church of which he was a licentiate, but in all the churches."

THE

COURSE OF TIME.

BOOK I.

ANALYSIS.-The author invokes the Eternal Spirit to inspire his song, that he may sing "The Course of Time;" "The second birth and final doom of man;" "The essential truth: Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damned, and Providence approved."

· Long after time had ceased, and eternity had rolled on its periods, numbered only by God alone, a stranger spirit arrives "high on the hills of immortality," and is there met by two other spirits, youthful sons of Paradise, who greet him with "Well done, thou good and faithful servant!" and invite him to ascend to the throne of God. The stranger informs them that, when he left his native world, on his way towards heaven, he came to a realm of darkness, where he saw beings of "all shapes, all forms, all modes of wretchedness," in a place of torment, burning continually, and dying perpetually; and heard curses and blasphemies; the meaning of which he requests them to unfold to him: but they, being unable, introduce him to an ancient bard of the earth, and all three request him to explain to them the wonders of the place of torments and prison of the damned. The bard informs them that the place the stranger saw was hell; the groans he heard, the wailings of the damned; that he will have his asking, and that "wondering doubt shall learn to answer," while he gives them, in brief, the history of Man.

INVOCATION.

ETERNAL Spirit! God of truth! to whom All things seem as they are; thou who of old The prophet's eye unscaled, that nightly saw, While heavy sleep fell down on other men, In holy vision tranced, the future pass

B

Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned
Burdens which made the pagan mountains shake
And Zion's cedars bow-inspire my song;
My eye unscale; me what is substance teach,
And shadow what, while I of things to come,
As past, rehearsing, sing the Course of Time,
The second birth, and final doom of man.

The muse, that soft and sickly wooes the ear
Of love, or chanting loud in windy rhyme
Of fabled hero, raves through gaudy tale,
Not overfraught with sense, I ask not; such
A strain befits not argument so high.

Me thought, and phrase, severely sifting out
The whole idea, grant; uttering as 'tis

The essential truth: Time gone, the righteous saved,

The wicked damned, and Providence approved.
Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach
To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes
Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure
As those by sainted bards and angels sung,
Which wake the echoes of eternity-

That fools may hear and tremble, and the wise
Instructed listen, of ages yet to come.

TIME AND ETERNITY.

Long was the day, so long expected, past Of the eternal doom, that gave to each

Of all the human race his due reward.

The sun-earth's sun, and moon, and stars-had ceased

To number seasons, days, and months, and years, To mortal man: hope was forgotten, and fear; And Time, with all its chance, and change, and smiles,

And frequent tears, and deeds of villany

Or righteousness-once talked of much, as things
Of great renown-was now but ill remembered;
In dim and shadowy vision of the past,
Seen far remote, as country, which has left
The traveler's speedy step, retiring back
From morn till even; and long Eternity
Had rolled his mighty years, and with his years
Men had grown old: the saints, all home returned
From pilgrimage, and war, and weeping, long
Had rested in the bowers of peace, that skirt
The stream of life; and long-alas! how long
To them it seemed-the wicked who refused
To be redeemed, had wandered in the dark
Of hell's despair, and drunk the burning cup
Their sins had filled with everlasting wo!

PICTURE OF PARADISE.

Thus far the years had rolled, which none but God

Doth number, when two sons, two youthful sons Of Paradise, in conversation sweet,

(For thus the heavenly muse instructs me, wooed At midnight hour with offering sincere

Of all the heart, poured out in holy prayer,)
High on the hills of immortality,

Whence goodliest prospect looks beyond the walls

Of heaven, walked; casting oft their eye far thro'
The pure serene, observant, if returned
From errand duly finished, any came,
Or any, first in virtue now complete,
From other worlds arrived, confirmed in good.
Thus viewing, one they saw, on hasty wing
Directing towards heaven his course; and now,
His flight ascending near the battlements
And lofty hills on which they walked, approached.
For round and round, in spacious circuit wide,
Mountains of tallest stature circumscribe
The plains of Paradise, whose tops, arrayed
In uncreated radiance, seem so pure,
That naught but angel's foot, or saint's, elect
Of God, may venture there to walk; here oft
The sons of bliss take morn or evening pastime,
Delighted to behold ten thousand worlds
Around their suns revolving in the vast
External space, or listen to the harmonies
That each to other in its motion sings.
And hence, in middle heaven remote, is seen
The mount of God, in awful glory bright.
Within, no orb create, of moon, or star,

Or sun, gives light; for God's own countenance,
Beaming eternally, gives light to all;

But farther than these sacred hills his will
Forbids its flow-too bright for eyes beyond.
This is the last ascent of Virtue; here
All trial ends, and hope; here perfect joy,
With perfect righteousness, which to these heights
Alone can rise, begins, above all fall.