THE SEVEN TEMPTATIONS.

TEMPTATION is the most awful and the most difficult subject which human genius can attempt to grapple with. The conten- tions for mastery between the principles of Good and Evil in the mind of man—the struggles of a soul discerning the good yet be- set by the allurements of evil, now resisting, now yielding, too often falling in the contest, or if finally triumphant, yet coming not unscathed from the fight—is an object at once sublitue and fearful. Omniscience, best acquainted with our strength and our weakness, bus directed us to pray, not for victory, but for avoid- ance. Our actions are open ; many of our motives and passions are confessed, or not concealed from keen observation; but who can measure the intensity of the secret struggles with the Tempter, save from his own experience, or from rare intuition ? and who can paint what he has felt ? The common herd of writers have instinc- tively avoided the subject. Even the highest minds have shrunk from the task, or ventured upon it timidly and cautiously. MILTON has briefly touched upon it; GOETHE somewhat more fully ; SHAK- SMARR undertook it once. But even with them—excepting in Macbeth— the temptation is only indicated, or thrown into shadow, rather than clearly painted. It is a compliment to MARY llowiris mind to say that she has not the experience requisite for such a task; it is no depreciation of her taknts if we deny that she possesses the necessary genius. The object of the Seven Temptations is excellent. The book abounds in amiable senti- ments expressed in elegant language; and frequerrIdy„ when the scene admits, it contains pastoral poetry beautifully simple. But the subject was too mighty for her powers; to undertake it was to fail.

Achzib the Liar, and two others of the lower order of spirits,

are seated in a gloomy part of space. The envy of Achzib is roused by a distant procession held on the occasion of crowning a spirit. He determines to acquire a like honour, by " proving the supremacy of Evil, and showing that the Spirits are stronger than Cud." Ile departs for Earth, to tempt " seven human beings accord- ing to their several natures, and to win the greater number if not all of them to their ruin." He commences with a poor and dying scholar, whom lie allures by vain wisdom, false philosophy, and the hopes of tame; but without success. He passes on to a broken- down spendthrift, whom he tempts by avarice, and triumphs. He next proceeds to a young and ardent mind, whom he assails in a moment of misfortune ; and seduces first to pleasure, whence the descent is easy to crime, even to robbery- and murder, or in other words, to piracy on the high seas. Grown bold, he attacks old age, endeavouring to create discontent and murmurs against Pro- vidence; but he is foiled by the piety of his subject, assisted by a village pastor. In Philip of Maine, he works upon disappointment and ambition, taking the guise of patriotism. Raymond is ambi- tious of distinction, social and general: he falls by means of gayety. The seventh temptation is named, from its heroine, Teresa ; where the faith of the woman overcomes the grief of the mother and the sorrow of the wife. Each Temptation forms a little drama.

Here is a good design; but the elements of failure were early

introduced into it. Achzib, in the guise of humanity, not only besets his victims with importunities, but, in the case of the Pirate, works a miracle to accomplish his end. The reader does not see the first struggles with temptation, the original lapses into evil; they take place %%here HORACE directs disgusting actions to be performed—behind the scenes, and the moral change is announced to the reader with the brevity of a stage direction. The whole work, indeed, is descriptive rather than dramatic. The charac- ters look on nature, and describe it ; they take up an abstract idea, and express it, always correctly, often beautifully ; but it is the author who speaks throughout. Where the feelings are affected, the effect is produced by situation, not by passion. In short—let the truth be told—the sterner passions are altogether beyond MARY Howirr. In the selection of extracts, we Miall not aim at conveying any idea of time stories, but merely pick out a few passages. There is a

nice and a true distinction in the closing line of the following.

Fear God, all-wise, omnipotent,

In him we live and have our being;

He bath all love, all blessing sent-

Creator—Father—All-decreeing !

Fear him, and love, and praise, and trust ; Yet have of man no slavish fear ; Remember kings, like thee, are dust, And at one judgment must appear.

But virtue, and its holy fruits,

The poet's soul, the sage's sense,

These are exalted attributes ; And these demand thy reverence.

But, boy, remember this, e'en then

Revere the gifts, but not the men !

The optimism of youth and health—

How full of joy is life! All things are made For one great scheme of bliss; all things are good

As at the first when God pronounced them so.

The broad sun pouring down upon the earth

His bright effulgence; every lighted dew-drop

Which glitters with the diamond's many rays; These flowers which gem the corona! of earth ;

Those larks, the soaring minstrels of the sky ;

Clear waters leaping like a glad existence; Forests and distant hills, and low green sallies, And feeding flocks, and little hamlet-homes, All, all are good—all, all are beautiful ! Existence is a joy ! I walk, I leap In that exuberant consciousness of life

Which nerves my limbs and makes all action pleasure. The vigour of strong life is to my frame

As pinions to the eagle; and my soul Is as a winged angel, soaring up In its full joy unto the heaven of heavens.

Here is a specimen of a sterner kind : the soliloquy of Raymond before dissipation has utterly corrupted him.

The Furies were no fiction! Sad Orestes Fled not from land to land from a vain shadow ! They are no fiction ; would to Heaven they were ! No ! they ate present with me, night and day— Spectres of days, and months, and years misspent Of talents wasted—hopes which I have murdered! Too late I know my folly—peace is gone ; And hope and self-esteem ; and that calm joy, The fruit of virtuous days, and tranquil nights! My friends, the early and the kind, are lost ; My cold neglect has broken a mother's heart, 'Mid shameful, miserable poverty. My lawless life has tarnished a good name ; My thriftless cost has ruined a fair fortune ; My sinful course has shattered a strong frame! Men, that I should have scorned in may pure years,,