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nefs of thy courfe, When the world is dark with tempeft; when thunder rolls, and lightning flies: thou looket in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laugheft at the ftorm. But to Offian, thou lookeft in vain; for he beholds thy beams no more; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eaftern clouds, or thou trembleft at the gates of the weft. But thou art perhaps, like me, for a feafon, and thy years will have an end. Thou shalt fleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O fun, in the ftrength of thy youth. Age is dark and unlovely; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, when it fhines through broken clouds, and the mift is on the hills; the blaft of the north is on the plain, the traveller fhrinks in the midft of his journey."

The death of Abel, attempted from the German of Geffner, by Mrs. Collyer. This rewill, intitles it to a

HE great applause this work

place in our Regifter. It is a poetical performance, not written in measure. Mrs. Collyer's tranf lation, we think, does juftice to her original. To use the words of her preface:

"The fubject is the death of ABEL, which is the most remarkable event recorded in facred hif

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tory from the fall to the deluge. The poet has had the art to intereft us in the diftreffes of our first parents, and their immediate defcendants, by the lively and affecting manner in which he manages the paffions, and by the graces and truth he throws into his paintings, while he defcribes the fimple manners of the first inhabitants of the earth.".

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Mr. Geffner has laid his fcene in fuch remote antiquity, as might poffibly have encouraged fome writers to have taken great liberties, but he has been very cautious. In the fimple age he defcribes, ambition could have nothing to feed upon. But that other bane of fociety, envy, may find room in the humbleft and moft fimple cottage, and this Mr. Geffner has chofen for the acting principle, which produces the catastrophe, Abel's death. Perhaps had the character of Cain appeared a little more art fully a mixed character, we had ftill been more interested in the

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story; but whatever elfe may be

objected to it, it must be allowed, that Mr. Geffner has great imagination. If the fable fhould not intereft, at leaft his defcriptions, his hymns and all thofe parts which leave room for fancy to dif play itself, may engage the reaWe must not. der's attention. omit to mention, that the German

O thou that, with furpaffing g'ory crown'd,
Lookft from thy fole dominion like the god
Of this new world; at whose fight all the stars
Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O fun?-

Quale per incertam lunam fub luce maligna
Eft iter in filvis ; ubi coelum condidit umbra
Jupiter, & rebus nex abftulit atra colorem.
Thus wander travellers in woods by night,

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By the moon's doubtful, and malignant light;
When Jove in dufky clouds involves the fkies,

And the faint crefcent fhoots ty fits before their eyes.

DRYD

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ftar. Pofterity will crown the urn of a poet who confecrates his talents to virtue and to innocence : his name shall not be forgot his reputation fhall bloom with unfading verdure, while the trophies of the proud conqueror fhall moulder in the duft, and the fuperb maufoleum of the tyrant shall stand unknown in the midst of a defert, where human feet have made no path. Few, 'tis true, who have ventur'd on these noble fubjects have received from nature the gift of finging well; But the attempt is laudable: to it Iconfecrate all my moments of leifüre, and all my folitary walks."

"Henceforth repofe in filence, thou foft pipe, no more I render thee vocal, no more I chant the fimple manners of the ruftic fwain. Fain would I raise my voice to bolder strains, and in harmonious lays rehearse the adventures of our primeval parents after their dreadful fall. Fain would I celebrate him who, facrific'd by a brother's fury, his dust first mingled with the earth. Come, thou noble enthusiasm that warm'ft and filleft the mind of the rapt poet, who during the filent hours of night contemplates in the gloom of the thick grove, or at the fide of a clear, ftream, glimmering with the moon's pale lamp: when feiz'd by a divine tranfport, imagination takes her flight, and with bold wing traverfing the regions of created fubftances, penetrates into the distant empire of poffibilities, difcovering with clear view the marvelous that captivates, and the beautiful that enchants. Loaded with treasure, fhe returns to arrange and conftruct her various materials. Taught by reafon to chufe and reject, the, with a wife œconomy, admits only what forms harmonious relations. Delightful employment! Laudable conftancy! I honour the bard, who, to excite fentiments of virtue in the yielding heart, watches the nocturnal fong of the grafhopper, till the rifing of the morning

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Abel's first appearance is an act of devotion.

"Retire, O fleep, from every eye. Fly, ye hovering dreams, to the fhades of night. Where are now the fhades of night? They have fled to the caves of the rocks; they wait us in the thick grove; we fhall find them there, and be refresh'd by their coolness during the fultry heat of noon. See where the new-born day firft wakes the eagle; where on the glittering fummits of the rocks, and the fhining fides of the mountains, the exhalations afcend and mix with the pure air of the morning, as the smoke of burntofferings arife from the altar. Thus nature celebrates the returning light, and pays to nature's God the facrifice of grateful praife. him all things that exit; praise him whofe wifdom and goodness produc'd and preferves all. Ye fpringing flowers, exhale the fweets he gave you in his praife. winged inhabitants of the grove, pour forth the warbling of your little throats to him who gave you voice and melody; while the majeftic lion ays him honour with the terrors of his mouth, and the ca

Praise

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verns of the rocks refound his praife. Praise God, O my foul! praife God the Creator and Preferver. Let the voice of man reach thy throne, O Lord, before that of thy other creatures in the grey twilight, at the dawn of the morning, while the birds and beasts yet fleep, may my folitary fong find acceptance, and invite the reviving creation to praise thee, the Creator and Preferver. How magnificent are thy works, O God, wifdom and goodness are ftamp'd on all. Wherever I turn my eyes, I perceive the traces of thy bounty; each fenfe is tranfported, and conveys their infinite beauties to my ravifhed mind. O God! weak and frail as I am, fain would I attempt thy praife. What induc'd thee, Maker Omnipotent! for ever happy in thyfelf, to call from nothing this gay creation? What induc'd thee, thou Self-exiftent, to form man out of the duft, and to give him the breath of life? It was thine infinite goodness. Thou gavest him being that thou mighteft confer on him happiness. O fmiling morn! in thee 1 fee a lively image of the work of the great Creator, when the fun difperfes the vapours of the earth, and drives night before his steps, all nature revives with renewed luftre. The Almighty fpoke; darkness fled and filence heard his voice: he commanded, and myriads of living creatures emerg'd from the teeming earth, flutter'd in the air with variegated plumage, and render'd the aftonish'd woods vocal with the praises of the beneficent Creator. Earth again hears the voice of her Almighty Maker: the heaving clods rife in innumerable fhapes, and burst into life and motion. The new form'd horse bounds o'er the verdant turf, and neighing

fhakes his mane : while the ftrong lion, impatient to free himself from the cumbrous earth, attempts his first roaring. A hill.teems with life; it moves; it burfts, and from it ftalks the huge unwieldly elephant. These are thy works, O thou Omnipotent! Each morn thou call'ft thy creatures from fleep, the image of non-existence; they awake furrounded by thy bounties, and join unanimous to chant thy praise. The time will come, when thy praise fhall refound from every corner of the peopled earth; when thine altars fhall blaze on every hill, and man fhall celebrate thy wonderous works from the rifing to the fetting day."

Cain's firft appearance is in a gloo my mood, full of ill-will and envy.

"At the fame time Cain paffing by the fragrant fhade, and heard Abel's melodious voice, and had beheld his delighted father tenderly embrace him. At this fight envy fix'd her envenom'd fting in his heart, and he giving a furious look at the bower, cry'd, What figns of joy are here! What fond careffes! I too might fing were my days, like his, fpent in idly reclining in the fhade, while the flocks were fporting, or cropping the green her bage: but I am not made for fing ing. Rugged labour is my inheri tance: tho I turn the glebe; tho I break the ftubborn earth, curft for my father's fin with barrenness, yet my fatigues meet no fuch fond rewards: did my foft brother but toil, like me, one day beneath the fcorching fun, 'twould fpoil his mufic; he'd trill no fongs.-What, more embraces! how I hate this effeminate dalliance! but if that fair youth be pleas'd, no matter what I hate."

After

After the murder and after the curfe denounced against Cain. "Cain flood motionless. Defpair glar'd in his eyes: yet fiercenefs was still seen on his bufhy brows. The furious winds shook his erect hair. Wild fear, at length, forc'd from his livid and quivering lips thefe horrid accents. Why has he not annihilated me? Wherefore not annihilated me? that no traces of me might remain in the creation. Why was I not blasted by his lightnings? Why did not his thunder trike me to the depths of the earth? But his ire referves me

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for perpetual fufferings torments without end-Detefted by my fellow all nature abhors me-I abhor myself — Already the attendants on guilt haunt me; fhame, remorfe, despair. Shut out from human fociety, banish'd from God, I fhall, while on earth, feel the torments of hell I fell them now. Curs'd be thou, O arm, which fo haftily executed the impulfes of paffion, mayft thou wither on my body like the blighted limb of a tree! Curs'd be the hour when a dream from hell deceiv'd me! and thou, infernal fiend, who fuggefted it, where art thou now? that I may curfe thee! Art thou returned to hell? mayft thou there fuffer inceffantly what I now feel! Nothing worse can I wish thee. This is your triumph, ye fpirits of darknefs! Gaze on, ye devils, and wonder at my mifery! - Spent with a gony, he fat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and remain'd without ftrength or voice, motionlefs as the dead. Then starting he cry'd, Ha! what noise is that? it is the voice of murder'd Abel! - he groans I fee his ftreaming blood! O my brother! my brother! in pity to my inexpreffible anguish, ceate to VOL. IV.

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haunt me! He now continu'd fitting in fpeechlefs agony, fighs only: bursting from his tortur'd heart."

The reader may expect an inftance of the pathetic, when the wives of Cain and Abel meet Adam and Eve after the murder.

Cain's wife fays, "O my father! fpeak-fpeak, I conjure thee-Why this horror on thy countenance No answer!-- O my tortur'd heart! Where--fay where, O my father! fay, O my mother! where is Cain my hufband?

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Eve reply'd, O my child! who knows where, purfu'd by divine vengeance---Ah my God!-the unhappy but what do I fay?—I tremble to fpeak it--- he he-ah me, unhappy mother! Horriddeteftable ideas, tear not thus my wretched bosom! Ah miferable rent that I am! why he-Ah my mother! interrupted Mahala, fpare me not, fpare me not, I conjure thee, O my mother! On me- on me let the tempeft fall I am already crush'd; already torn by frightful apprehenfions. Cain-O heavens! Cain has · Kill'd him! cry'd Eye. Ah Mahala! Ah Thirza! Cain kill'd him! Her exceffive grief then took from her the power of speech.

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Mahala was ftruck mute with terror. Her immoveable eyes fhed no tears. The cold fweat trickled down her pale face,, and her trembling lips were difcolour'd. At length the cry'd out in agony, He kill Abe!! Cain my hufband, kill his brother! — Where art thou, fratricide? where? Where, Oh where has thy guilt purfu'd thee? Has the thunder of God aveng'd thy brother? Doft thou cease to exist? Where art thou, most miferable? To what country of defpair art thou fled, follow'd by the

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curfe of God? Thus rav'd Mahala, tearing her hair.

Barbarous fatricide! vile murderer! exclaim'd Thirza; how couldst thou kill fo kind a brother; who, doubtlefs, when expiring under the mortal blow given by thy cruel hand, regarded thee with eyes full of love?-Ah Cain, curft curft be- O my fifter! O Thirza! cry'd Mahala, interrupting her, curfe him not, he is thy brother!-he is my husband! Rather let us implore for him the mercies of God. I am fure, when falling in his blood, the holy victim of his fury cast on him an eye of compaffion, and I doubt not but now intercedes for him before the eternal throne. Let our prayers afcend from the duft, and join thofe of the happy. O curfe him not, Thirza curfe not thy brother."

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The poet ends his work with an affecting fcene.

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The children lamented round him. They rais'd their innocent hands in agony. Mahala funk on the earth, and reclin'd on her husband. Receive thefe tears ceive thefe expreffions of my fincere forgiveness and compaffion, she faid, while fhe wept over him. thou fly, Cain? Doft thou fly to the defart regions? How can I dwell here while thou art folitary and abandon'd! while thou art miferable far from me! No, Cain, I fly with thee. How can I fuffer thee to be deftitute of all relief in the defarts! What cruel inquietudes would torment me! Every breeze I heard would fill me with terror! Perhaps he is now, I should fay to myself-perhaps he is this inftant in the agonies of death, without fuccour in fome barren wild. She was filent, and Cain, with a look of aftonifhment, cry'd, What do I hear? Is it thou, Mahala? is it thou thyself, or does a dream again I deceive? It is, it is my dear, my virtuous wife! Thy words, Mahala, thy confolating words have foften'd my despair. Thou doft not hate me! thou dost not curse me!

"Curfe me not, O Mahala! come to deplore before thee my mifery and my guilt: then I fly far from thee for ever. I will hide me in the defarts. Curs'd of God, follow'd by his wrath, I fly. Oh curfe me not! curfe not thy wretched husband!

Ah Cain! the reply'd, penetrated with the tendereft compaffion; tho' thou haft kill'd the best of brothers tho' thou hat heap'd inexpreffible miferies on my wretched head, yet I forget not that thou are ftill my husband. I pity weep for thee.

Cain anfwer'd, cafting on her a look of tenderness, a look that exprefs'd the bitter anguifh of his heart; Fatal moment, when a dream from hell deceiv'd me! thefe little ones appear'd be fore me as flaves to the fons of Abel. To fave them from mifery

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It is enough. No, thou courageous, thou affectionate wife! thou fhalt never fhare in the punishment due to my horrid crime. Thou

fhalt

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