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CONTENTS.

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Still men advance in talents, one and all,
Whether strong vice or weaker virtue call;
The skilful thief can cheat the judge in chief,
My lord chief justice can harpoon the thief.
The laws, like fowler's nets, may catch the
brave,

Or set like weasel traps, ensnare the knave;
No matter which, for perjury can kill,
And, 'gainst all truth, grand juries find the bill.
But greater crimes and larger genius brought

Man in a state of barbarism-Origin of civil society. Of Reforming Bess, with mighty feelings fraught,

cities-Their good effects. Illustrated by a similitudeTheir corruption.-Insecurity of towns, on account of vice, fraud, rapine, and tyranny. Provoke Providence to disperse

A sister queen to murder by her side,
To wear silk stockings, and in coach to ride.
Why should the stranger to Crotona go?

mankind again-the Steam-Engine sent for that purpose Pythagoras instructs the shades below;

how sent-described.-Its effects. Citizens compelled to live
in the country-its new appearance.-The grove once sacred
to Diana, now usurped by Venus. Men still vicious-but
less so than they would be in town. If the Steam Engine
were corrected, men might return to town-providentially
prevented by the Queen's trial. The disorders of barbarism
gave rise to cities-their own vices destroy them.

TIME was, ere law and institute began,
Of all the brutes that through the forest ran,
The wildest was ungovernable man.

When tender Orpheus struck his awful lyre,
And taught religion with a prophet's fire,
The savage tribes confess'd the power of song,
And harmony prevented many a wrong.
Then social kindness built her fost❜ring nest,
Of softest dove-down, in the human breast.
Sons, to their fathers known, for virtue strove,
And wedlock sanctified the bands of love.

Amphion next in bolder notes display'd
The perfect bliss of Cities; undismay'd
By raging lion's glare, or tiger's spring,
By snake's envenomed bite, or harpy's wing,
Shap'd by his voice to oblong, round, or square,
For temples, palaces, and columns fair,
Fit fragments from their marble quarries rose,
And rested where the wise musician chose.
Each tree too sent his well-proportioned beam,
(Perhaps ev'n then with secret aid of steam,)
To lift the roofs, the stately walls to bind-
Ease, safety, virtue, pleasure, bless mankind.
See where the tyrant Rhone his poison flings
From Alpine summit, and, corrosive, brings
A burning sand to Sion's frighted vale;
"Tis death where'er he spreads his wat'ry veil.
See him on th' opening shore of Leman Lake,
Check'd by superior purity, forsake

His headlong rage; relent, with altered pace,
And sinking low, conceal his mud-stain'd face.
There in the throng of waters he may rest,
And purg'd, become a copy of the best.
Geneva pleas'd salutes the polish'd Rhone,
Swift envoy from the nymphs to Neptune's

throne.

E'en so the savage tribes in cities clos'd,
Beneath the shade of equity repos'd;
Refin❜d their manners, and improv'd the arts,
All virtues learnt that science fair imparts.

But, time proceeding, to mankind arose
A period new; for human fortune knows
No stable footing; nor the wisest son
Can claim the conquests which his father won.
A curse attends on all improvements, which
Makes poor men envious, and oppressors rich.
So civil government makes civil war,
Of some who riches guard, from those that are
Keen on the watch to seize the destin'd prey.
The poet's miracle, a moral lay,

That e'er content with poverty could stay.

In his once crowded philosophic school,
Enormous vice now bears despotic rule.

Close on the borders of some lonely wood, Where late its mother and the shepherd stood,

A poor forgotten lamb for pity bleats,
Runs, stops, and runs, and oft his call repeats;
The waking wolf before the shepherd hears,
And limb from limb the hapless victim tears.
From succour far, beset with treacheries,
So in our cities now the stranger dies.

Where on the mart can honesty resort?
For cheated truth what corner of the court
Is now reserv'd? the wealthy Jew prevails,
And poverty must sneak behind the rails.
How should a judge, in ermine, pride, and lace,
With patience look on rags and smutty face?
"To prison with him, and to gallows soon,
"Let not such ordure stink beneath the moon."

The lawyers quirk, the sneaking traders fraud,
The faithless guards that nightly walk abroad,
The griping magistrate, and starving poor,
Make life uneasy, and estate unsure.

Thus towns to infamies of savage life
Bring back mankind, and none dares take a
wife.

Promiscuous love profanes our busiest streets,
Sham'd wedlock hides her face from all she

meets;

Or else, with hair dishevelled, madly cries,

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My oaths are sand; say where in secret lies,
"The rank adulterer's devoted head?”
"Twere vain to seek him in a royal bed.
Why should we marry, when in all distress,
Friends, kindred, love us for our children less?
E'en captious sycophants from those withdraw
Whose wills are occupied by heirs at law.

When it was seen that men before the flood,
By living long in gross corruption stood,
Eternal wisdom, kind, abridg'd the date
Of human life, and fix'd a narrower fate.
Men, in society united, live

Like individuals, and provoking give
Vice to their heirs, full ripe and ready made;
E'en children now are masters of the trade.
The mother vulture to her young ones bears
A living prey, and in their presence tears
The palpitating lamb, and groaning kid;
Sons learn to do whate'er their fathers did.
Nor do death's agonies less luscious seem,
Than the rich nourishment with which they

teem;

The callow young are murderers ere they fly,
And crimes on eagle wing insult the sky.
Hark! at the gate of heav'n shrill murder's

screams,

Wake sleeping vengeance to appall the Thames.
In premium once, was to Loretto sent
A holy house, where pilgrims duly went

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To hail the hallow'd shrine; and daily fell
On all the pure inhabitants that dwell
Within the sacred precincts of the place,
A shower of worldly wealth and heavenly
grace.

But now th'avenging angel is ordain'd,
(To punish British cities, deeply stain'd
With blasphemy, theft,murder,and base fraud,)|
To drop a monstrous engine from his cloud,
The arsenal of torture for mankind,

When sin excessive grows, and conscience blind.

Just as Great Britain's thunder-bearers roll Through ocean's vast expanse to either pole, Chastising piracy, rebellions, crime, In isle, bay, continent, of every clime; So this stern spirit with Nemesian rod, Steers through the troublous air the storm of God;

More than Egyptian plagues, dispensing far, Where giant crimes provoke th'unequal war. Not more astounded were the Lernian frogs, When great king Block descending shook their bogs,

Than the proud citizens of London town, By monstrous huge Steam-engine thund'ring down:

Boiling with heat, and belching fiery smoke, The monster stood, and brought beneath his yoke

Th' immediate vicinage, who vainly fled;
For all around he rears a ruthless head,
From block to hydra turn'd; affrighting Lud,
With all his croaking battlements of mud,
And ships that ride on his imperial flood.
For he e'en through the ocean can pursue,
O'ertake and punish each abandon'd crew.

As Myrra's child, from aromatic tree,
Burst the hard rind, (for incest will be free,)
So from the side of Mongibello came,
This genuine son of hell's pernicious flame,
Shot through the air by heav'n's supreme
command,

As light'ning swift, and fill'd th' avengers hand,
Who shook it off to plague this suff'ring land.
Sure proof of guilt; for when the viper hiss'd,
And twining grasp'd the great apostle's wrist,
He back restor'd it to the hissing wood,
Because those islanders were kind and good.
And with it came a genius of the fire,
Whose skill his entrails feeds with baneful ire,
Augmenting heat dissolv'd to vapoury dew
His bowel moisture, which in vigour grew,
Forcing impetuous way through every tube
Of his complex anatomy-the cube,
The valve, cylindric pump, relax, compress
His native fury, and fierce restlessness.
Thus toss'd and roaring like sulphureous storm,
Rais'd by the fiend, it strikes in ev'ry form
Of racks, and wheels, and whirling beams, that
cry,

With hacking, cutting, breaking, hammering minstrelsy.

The inward groanings shake contiguous walls,
And black defiling smoke before it falls,
Doth smut the face of heaven, recoil again,
And wrench their vital breath from sinful men.
Adventurers profane, when not afraid,
Would pry into his secrets: some were bray'd,
Like traitor Mufti in his tinkling brass;
And some by strange explosion of the mass,
Bestrode the clouds. By splinter lightning
kill'd,

A few, like Capanens, their gore distill'd.

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This engine sprung from so prodigious birth, With special murders terrified the earth. At noon the pestilence walks forth like night, With inky shroud defiling heavenly light. But yet these characters obscure express, To all who read phenomena, no less Than universal death, if they should dwell Where vengeance keeps the gloomy court of hell.

As erst Achilles all the Trojan bands Dispers'd with armour-gleaming iron hands, Or Babel's clam'rous hoarse discordant tongues Spread through the world a flood of impious wrongs;

So this dire monster emptied many a town, And cockney join'd in converse with the clown.

Now men in fear from crowded streets withdraw,

But not to live by simple food or law.
No acorns feed them, no thatch'd hovels hide
Their dainty limbs. Nor social, side by side,
Do man and beast their common right defend,
Nor dress'd alike as best becomes a friend.
Love has its livery, and most nations hold
Their own in war the boldest of the bold.
Adepts who travel turban'd Turks to see,
Do wisely claim their hospitality,
With heads close shorn, and crowns of muslin
tapestry.

Alcina's gardens, aromatic airs,
From sweeter plants than rich Arabia bears,
Perfume their pygmy palaces and ground.
Those seem to dance in gay confusion round
The guilty suburbs. More advanc'd they try,
Like Galatea, through the wood to fly,
Yet turn to ogle with lascivious eye.

Our painted ploughs and carts may haply
shock

The taste of lowing herd or bleating flock;
The straw-built roof more snugly may invest
The rural mouse, or sparrow in her nest.
Their minds change not; but modern masonry
Seems more commodious to the human eye.

The country maids their dairy dress with

care,

And eke themselves with neatness due prepare.
The rustic poets sing in courtly style

Their love-sick idyls, and the maids beguile;
Such seldom wait for blessing from above,
But watch the coming gale with bosoms full
of love.

The grove was Dianas temple, chaste as snow
Or childish innocence, though Venus now
Usurp her arrows, cheating those who dream
Of lunar radiance, with a hotter beam.
Once every crime that man's corrupted mind
Could harbour or commit was duly fin'd.
One now we legal deem, the state may sell,
And mortgage all the rights of heav'n and hell,
Yet wisely keep it at a doubtful rate,
Like fruiterer at his stall, who bids you eat,
Then names the rascal price. "Tis just to give
An equal power to both, as sons of Eve.

The convict in adultery, rich and gay,
His lady's worth inquires, and what's to pay.
The country, not exempt from wand'ring
fires,

Yet softens and abates our wild desires;
And emulation wanting in the race,
The vicious passions keep a milder pace.
When crimes are rife, 'twere dangerous to

remove

The antidote to towns, this Lemnian stove,

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Night.-The Bards.-Human Life.

For men assembled struggle to excel,
In vice, if bad-if good, in doing well.
And fate, perhaps, did kindly interpose,
A fiery barrier, when the senate chose
To strip Steam-engine of his stifling smoke,
And mitigate in part the tyrant's yoke.
Strange, that the majesty of Britain's throne,
Should now march forth in sackcloth to atone
For general corruptions; that the Queen,
Should in fierce trial with the peers be seen;
While deep-envenomed tongues assault the
King,

And all on them their private vices fling.
Like those two victims of the Jewish priest,
Where one was doom'd to bleed, and one
dismiss'd.

We in amazement for the issue wait,
Not knowing how to justify the State;
We blindly cringe to fate's superior doom,
Till fiery pillar shall dispel the gloom.
Mean time the steam his ravages extends,
Dispeopling towns, and separating friends.
From chaos all things rose. Disorder built
Those cities first, that now dissolve in guilt.
Oct. 31, 1820.

NIGHT.

BY M. G. OF LIVERPOOL.

The sable empress of the darkling night,
Her raven-colour'd mantle round her spread,
And reassum'd her sceptre, when the light
Had, with the orb of day its fountain, fled.
She snatch'd away the lily's hue of snow;
The rose's blush departed with the light;
The castle stately, and the cottage low,

Together vanish'd from the darken'd sight.
Th' aspiring mountain, and its russet brow,

The humble valley, and its flow'ry breast,
The blooming meadows to her mandates bow;
The furzy heath was black at her behest.
She caus'd an utter change on nature's face;
The shining garment which had dress'd the
day,

She chang'd to blackness; and the aerial space
Where Sol had shone,in gloom the thickest lay.
The lanscape's tints did then no longer teem
Their glowing brightness on the wandering

eye;

The verdant lowland's crystal winding stream,
No longer gleam'd, nor show'd th' o'erhang-
ing sky.

The beast to's grassy couch had slunk away;
The warbler rested in his downy nest;
The village swain in sleep's embraces lay,
With peace, upon his homely pillow, blest.
Then all was quiet; all had silent grown;
Still as the habitation of the dead:
The clam'rous sounds of day were then
unknown;

The foes of peaceful silence all had fled.
The swarming city's din confus'd was hush'd;
No rustic's voice rebounded from the mead;
No shrub was by the passing zephyr brush'd;
Nor from the thicket did a chirp proceed.
Echo herself enjoy'd a calm repose;

For through the stagnant air no whisper
stray'd;

Not e'en a motion rustled 'mongst the boughs;
Nor did a breath the quict air invade.

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The gentle gales had fann'd themselves to sleep;
The wearied winds remember'd not to blow;
The gen'ral peace all things combin'd to keep;
Save that the streamlet play'd its lapsing flow.
But night's black empress did not long retain,
O'er nature's wide extending works, her
sway;

For Cynthia, with her numerous glitt'ring train,
Appearing drove her from the earth away.
ThenCynthia deck'd in all her splendours bright,
Mounted the aerial azure-vaulted space;
And with her glowing silver-floods of light,

Reviv'd and cheer'd awaken'd nature's face.
The spacious landscape,late in darkness dress'd,
With all its beauties did again appear:
Hills, vales, brooks, forests, on the vision
press'd,

In hues more soft than when bright Sol was

near.

Transparent, smooth, the glassy ocean lay,
Reflecting, as a mirror, heav'n's expanse ;
And as above it Cynthia climb'd her way,
She did, with pleasure, at her shadow glance.
She reign'd triumphant over ev'ry foe,

While subjugated nature smil'd, resign'd:
Rejoicing under Cynthia's silv'ry glow,
Till to Aurora's rosy sway consign'd.
Nov. 30, 1820.

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167

On Conscience.

On Conscience.

MR. EDITOR, SIR, Your correspondent, J. B. of London, in col. 834, solicits an answer to the question-" What is Conscience?" This question, I am persuaded, deserves a very serious attention, because Christians, in general, appeal to the decisions of conscience in order to justify their deportment, and to prove that the tenets of their respective creeds bear the stamp of Divine authority. And if its decisions are not compatible with the doctrines of divine revelation, (as it may very possibly be the case,) the consequences produced may be of a serious nature. Of all that I have read on the subject, my judgment leads me to give the preference to Dr. Adam Clarke's definition, and which I consider to be rational, clear, and scriptural.-The following paragraphs, extracted from his learned Commentary, will, I think, form a "satisfactory reply" to J. B.'s question.

Oct. 14. 1820.

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THEOLOGUS.

"Conscience is defined by some to be 'that judgment which the rational soul passes on all her actions; and is said to be a faculty of the soul itself, and consequently natural to it. Others state, that it is a ray of divine light. Milton calls it God's umpire: and Dr. Young calls it a ‘god in man.' To me it seems to be no other than a faculty capable of receiving light and conviction from the Spirit of God: and answers the end, in spiritual matters, to the soul that the eye does to the body in the process of vision. The eye is not light in itself; nor is it capable of discerning any object, but by the instrumentality of solar or artificial light: but it has organs properly adapted to the reception of the rays of light, and the various images of the objects which they exhibit. When these are present to an eye, (the organs of which are perfect,) then there is a discernment of those objects which are within the sphere of vision; but when the light is absent, there is no perception of the shape, dimensions, size, or colour, of any object, howsoever entire or perfect the optic nerve and the different humours may be.

"In the same manner, (comparing spiritual things with natural,) the Spirit of God enlightens that eye of the soul which we call conscience: it penetrates

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it with its effulgence; and (speaking as human language will permit on the subject) it has powers properly adapted to the reception of the Spirit's emanations, which, when received, exhibit a real view of the situation, state, &c. of the soul, as it stands in reference to God and eternity. Thus, the Scripture says, The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit, &c.' i. e. it shines into the conscience, and reflects throughout the soul a conviction (proportioned to the degree of light communicated) of condemnation or acquittance, according to the end of its coming.

"Conscience is sometimes said to be good, bad, tender, seared, &c.—good, if it acquit or approve; bad, if it condemn or disapprove; tender, if it be alarmed at the least approach of evil, and severe in scrutinizing the actions of the mind or body; and seared, if it feel little alarm, &c. on the commission of guilt. But these epithets can scarcely belong to it, if the common definition of it be admitted; for, how can it be said there is a 'tender light,' a' dark or hardened light,' 'bad God,' &c. &c. But, on the other definition, these terms are easily understood, and are exceedingly proper: e. g. a good conscience is one to which the Spirit of God has brought intelligence of the pardon of all the sins of the soul, and its reconciliation to God through the blood of Christ; and this good conscience retained, implies God's continued approbation of such a person's conduct; see Acts xxiii. 1. 1 Tim. i. 5, 19; and here, Heb. xiii. 18. A bad, or evil, conscience,' supposes a charge of guilt brought against the soul by the Holy Spirit, for the breach of the Divine laws; and which He makes known to it by conscience, as a medium of conveying his own light to the mind, see Heb. x. 22. 1 Tim. iv. 2. Tit. i. 3. 'A tender conscience' implies one fully irradiated by the light of the Holy Ghost, which enables the soul to view the good as good, and the evil as evil, in every important respect; which leads it to abominate the latter, and cleave to the former; and, if at any time it act in the smallest measure opposite to these views, it is severe in its reprehensions, and bitter in its regret.

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A darkened or hardened conscience,' means one that has little or no selfreprehension for acts of transgression, but runs on in sin, and is not aware of the destruction that awaits it; heed

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less of counsels, and regardless of reproof. This state of the soul St. Paul calls by the name of a seared conscience,' or one cauterized by repeated applications of sin, and resistings of the Holy Ghost; so that, being grieved and quenched, He has withdrawn His light and influence from it.

"The word conscience itself ascertains the above explication, with its deductions; being compounded of con, together, or with, and scio, to know, because it knows, or convinces, by or together with the Spirit of God. The Greek word avvenous, which is the only word used for conscience through the whole New Testament, has the very same meaning, being compounded of ovv, together, or with, and eww, to know. This is the same as ovvedno, which is the word generally used among ecclesiastical writers.

"From the above view of the ject, I think we are warranted in drawing the following inferences :

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the deficiency of the gift, but through the abuse of it. I conclude, that conscience is not a power of the soul, acting by or of itself; but a recipient faculty, in which that true light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world, has its especial operation."

ON CONSCIENCE.

Reply by A. F. to a Query on Conscience, inserted col. 843.

THE consciousness of good and evil is, I believe, respecting many actions, implanted in the mind by education. In our youth we are taught to distinguish virtue from vice, to respect the one and abhor the other; which, added to the hope of happiness in the next world, and the fear of eternal misery, early produce a deeply impressed prinsub-ciple of virtue. This, our memory, in all our thoughts or actions, presents to our view; and we then ask ourselves, if they are agreeable to it? It is the answer our understanding gives us, which produces that pleasure or pain we then feel. If the reply is satisfactory, the happiness resulting from having obeyed the commands of God, is heightened by the pleasing reflection, that we have supported our honour and virtue unsullied; if, on the contrary, we have yielded to temptation, we are overwhelmed with fear and shame.

1. All men have what is called conscience; and conscience plainly supposes the Light or Spirit of God. 2. The Spirit of God is given to enlighten, convince, strengthen, and bring men back to God. 3. Therefore, all men may be saved who attend to, and coincide with, the lights and convictions communicated; for the God of the Christians does not give men His Spirit to enlighten, &c. merely to leave them without excuse; but that it may direct, strengthen, and lead them to Himself, that they may be finally saved. 4. That this Spirit comes from the grace of God, is demonstrable from hence:-It is a good and perfect gift;' and St. James says, all such come from the Father of lights. Again, it cannot be merited, for as it implies the influence of the Holy Spirit, it must be of an infinite value, yet it is GIVEN ; that, then, which is not merited, and yet is given, must be of grace; not ineffectual grace, there is no such principle in the Godhead.

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"Thus it appears all men are partakers of the grace of God, for all acknowledge that conscience is common to all; and this is but a recipient faculty, and necessarily implies the Spirit of grace, given by Jesus Christ; not that the world might be thereby condemned, but that it might be saved. Nevertheless, multitudes, who are partakers of this heavenly gift, sin against it, lose it, and perish everlastingly, not through No. 24.-VOL. III.

But many, if we look around us, are not so conscious of the distinctions between good and evil. I conceive this depends upon the degree of information received; if we have never been taught that a thing is wrong, we cannot be aware, if we do it, that we are committing sin. Were a man from infancy to have no opportunity of intercourse with his fellow-creatures, and then be introduced into society, I believe he would be guided entirely by his will, without any ideas of right or wrong, to gratify all his desires. There are no men so ignorant as this; but the wild barbarians that inhabit some parts of the world are nearly as uninformed. They dare not injure one another, because they are afraid of revenge; or perhaps they have an idol, whom they fear to offend for the same reason. But civilize one of these, teach him the laws of man, and of Christianity, and his crimes multiply. Before, his only crimes were robbing or insulting his neighbour, or M

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