Nothing can surpass the language of his tragedy, called, "Remorse;" it has been well observed with regard to it, "it was natural, free, forcible, blank verse; equal in some parts to Shakspere."

But now we see our poet located on the lovely borders of a lake in Cumberland, where it might be expected much would contribute, from the surrounding majestic scenery, to inspire his fervid geniusand here it was, truly, that he wrote his "Christabel "-the poem "after our heart;" albeit some severer critics have so strongly censured it, as a combination of poetic wildness of eccentricity. It is its wildness that we love, it is its eccentricity that we admire; as a whole poem our soul delighteth in it; that there were certain irregularities in the application of the powers of his mind cannot be doubted, but we are such warm admirers of genius, and such lovers of that which is grand and simple, that we are for the most part indifferent to the faults of such as Coleridge. To those who have been long initiated into the sublime mysteries of poetry, whose eyes have been gladdened with the delights of ecstatic vision, and whose ears have trembled to the touch of those soft melodious undulations which imagination pours forth from her fairy harp; to such as these "Christabel," with all its peculiarity, (which has been unjustly styled "trickery of pantomime poetry"), will be invested with indescribable charms, and will exert a powerful influence on the mind and feelings. We concede that there are many aberrations observable in parts of the poem, yet despite all, the very aberrations themselves form a spell of enchantment within the circle of which we are bound, and while we listen to the charm our faculties are unwilling to discover the incongruities which exist: yet such there It is perhaps to be lamented that one who could strike from his lyre such heavenly notes, should ever have been led to send forth such discordant tones as are to be met with in the poem of "Christabel;" we find no bound of emotion as we read these lines"And the owls have awakened the crowing cock,

are.

Tu-whit-tu-whoo!

From cliff and tower, tu-whoo-tu-whoo!

Tu-whoo-tu-whoo! from wood and dell."

Now all this might be revolting to the pre-conceived ideas of a superficial admirer of Coleridge; with us it is different; we do not like these harsh sounds, but they proceed from a soul-subduing minstrel. Oh! how often have we dwelt upon the words woven so exquisitely in the following lines. Yes, we have pondered them in the loneliness of our spirit, when our "heart knew its own bitterness," and when we felt as though mingled with the very sadness of the scene :

"Alas! they had been friends in youth,
But whispering tongues can poison truth,
And constancy dwells in realms above,
And life is thorny. Youth is vain :
And to be wroth with one we love,
Doth work like madness on the brain.
So chanc'd it once as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline-
They parted, ne'er to meet again :
But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining;
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs that had been rent asunder.
A dreary sea now flows between,

But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,

The marks of that which once hath been.".

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But the limits of our paper remind us that we must conclude. Unwilling do we feel, however, to quit the society of one we so much love, and fully conscious are we how inadequately we have now expressed our appreciation of his genius; would that we could dilate upon the panoramic beauties of his splendid " Hymn on the Plains of Chamouny:" a poem containing passages unsurpassed by the poet of deserted Eden; or that we could touch upon his eccentric, though to our minds, charming "Ancient Mariner," a wild poem truly, but rich and rare withal. What more mellifluous, or more redolent of the sunniness of poetic painting, than the lines"Around, around flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,

Now mix'd, now one by one.

And now 'twas like all instruments,

Now like a lonely flute;

And now it is an angel's song,

That maketh the heavens be mute.

It ceas'd, yet still the sails made on

A pleasant noise till noon :

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune."

For touching pathos and exquisite beauty, his simple "Sonnet to Genevieve," has oft delighted ns; after dwelling with his wonted happiness upon the several characteristics of his "gentle maid gliding along like a star of eve;" the two last lines come fraught with inimitable feeling :

"I've seen your breast with pity heave,

And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve."

We wish that we could now be privileged with a glimpse of this "wonderful man"-so fitly styled by Wordsworth; that we might gaze upon his thick wavering silver hairs, his youthful coloured cheek, his quick yet steady and penetrating eye, and his clerical looking costume, all making up the image of the poet whom we love! would that our ears could catch the tones of his everlasting melodies, even though it had been during the fading hour of his earthly life, when his natural force being abated, his eye was not dim, nor his mind enfeebled! But this may not be: we must be satisfied with the reminiscences of the "bard that's fled;" and very sweet and worthy to be cherished shall they ever be, as with delight and wonder we stray amid the excursions of his poetry, and pluck new flowers every step we take. Yes, sweet shall be our recollections of the author of "Christabel," and our fancy shall oft carry us to survey with gladness the corruscations of a mind which was ever radiant in life, and which gained the mastery over death.

THE ORGAN OF BERNSDORF.

BY W. J. THOMS, ESQ., F.S.A.

A Prussian Legend, from the German of Norduagel.

AT Bernsdorf stands a little church,
Which gentle hands did raise,
Wherein the lips of pious men,

Their Maker's mercy praise;

Their grateful hymns though there they sing,
No organ's sound is heard therein.

The organ sank beneath the wave,
When bringing from the land;
And now it rests without a trace,
Upon the green sea's sand.

Have then the wild waves mastery
Over their hearty piety?

The hymns they sang next Sunday morn,
Were sorrowful to hear;

Th' expression of the Almighty's praise,
Was chok'd by many a tear.

When, hark! the organ's melody
Peal'd sweetly from the glassy sea.

And ever since that blessed day
Scarce sound that church's bells,
'Ere, from the bosom of the flood,
The solemn organ swells.

The wind and sunshine praise the Lord,
And the glad waves exalt His word!

STATE OF PUBLIC WORSHIP AT THE TIME OF THE REFORMATION.

A VERY important work has just been published by the Rev. J. E. Tyler, on "Primitive Christian Worship ;" and as it is our intention to point out to our readers from time to time the most interesting publications of the day, and to make such extracts from them as may best suit the circumstances of the times, we present to them the following remarks on the state of worship at the time of the Reformation. They will tend to induce a spirit of thankfulness to Almighty God for the blessings of a pure and Apostolic Church:

"One of the points proposed for our inquiry was the state of religious worship, with reference to the invocation of saints, at the time immediately preceding the Reformation. Very far from entertaining a wish to fasten upon the Church of Rome now, what then deformed religion among us, in any department where that Church has practically reformed her services, I would most thankfully have found her ritual in a more purified state than it is. My more especial object in referring to this period is twofold: first, to show that, consistently with catholic and primitive principles, the Catholic Christians of England ought not to have continued to participate in the worship which at that time prevailed in our country; and, secondly, by that example both to illustrate the great danger of allowing ourselves to countenance the very first stages of superstition, and also to impress upon our minds the duty of checking in its germ any the least deviation from the primitive principles of faith and worship; convinced that by the general tendency of human nature, one wrong step will, though imperceptibly, yet almost inevitably lead to another; and that only whilst we adhere with uncompromising steadiness to the Scripture as our foundation, and to the primitive Church, under God, as a guide, can we be saved from the danger of making shipwreck of our faith.

"On this branch of our subject I propose to do no more than to lay before my readers the witness borne to the state of religion in England at that time, by two works, which have been in an especial manner forced upon my notice. Many other testimonies of a similar tendency might be adduced; but these will probably appear sufficient for the purposes above mentioned; and to dwell longer than is necessary on this point would be neither pleasant nor profitable.

"The first book to which I shall refer is called The Hours of the most blessed Virgin Mary, according to the legitimate use of the Church of Salisbury.' This book was printed in Paris in the year 1526. The prayers in this volume relate chiefly to the Virgin: and I should, under other circumstances, have reserved all allusion to it for our separate inquiry into the faith and practice of the Church of Rome with regard to her. But its historical position and general character seemed to recommend our reference to it here. Without anticipating, therefore, the facts or the arguments, which will hereafter be submitted to the reader's consideration on

State of Public Worship at the time of the Reformation.

45

the worship of the Virgin, I refer to this work now solely as illustrative of the lamentable state of superstition, which three centuries ago overran our country.

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The volume abounds with forms of prayer to the Virgin, many of them prefaced by extraordinary notifications of indulgences promised to those who duly utter the prayers. These indulgences are granted by Popes and by Bishops; some on their own mere motion, They guarantee reothers at the request of influential persons. mission of punishment for different spaces of time, varying from forty days to ninety thousand years; they undertake to secure freedom from hell; they promise pardon for deadly sins, and for venial sins to the same person for the same act; they assure to those who comply with their directions a change of the pain of eternal damnation into the pain of purgatory, and the pain of purgatory into a free and full pardon.

"It may be said that the Church of Rome is not responsible for all these things. But we need not tarry here to discuss the question how far it was then competent for a church or nation to have any service-book or manual of devotion for the faithful, without first obtaining the papal sanction. For clear it is beyond all question, that such frightful corruptions as these, of which we are now to give instances, were spread throughout the land; that such was the religion then imposed on the people of England; and it was from such dreadful enormities, that our Reformation-to whatever secondary cause that Reformation is to be attributed-by the providence No one laments more than I do, the of Almighty God rescued us. extremes into which many opponents of papal Rome have allowed themselves to run; but no one can feel a more anxious desire than myself to preserve our Church and people from a return of such spiritual degradation and wretchedness; and to keep far from us the most distant approaches of such lamentable and ensnaring superstitions. In this feeling, moreover, I am assured that I am joined by many of the most respected and influential members of the Still what has been may be; Roman Catholic Church among us. and it is the bounden duty of all members of Christ's Catholic Church, to whatever branch of it they belong, to join in guarding his sanctuary against such enemies to the truth as it is in Him.

"At the same time it would not be honest and candid in me, were I to abstain from urging those, who, with ourselves, deprecate these excesses, to carry their reflections further; and determine whether the spirit of the gospel does not require a total rejection, even in its less startling forms, of every departure from the principle of invoking God alone; and of looking for acceptance with Him solely to the mediation of his Son, without the intervention of any other merits. As we regard it, it is not a question of degree, it is a question of principle; one degree may be less revolting to our sense of right than another, but it is not on that account justifiable. "The following specimens, a few selected from an over-abundant supply, will justify the several particulars in the summary which I have above given :