retired upon the accession of William of Orange. He "lisped in numbers," and could not recollect the time when he did not write poetry. He was educated first by the priest of the family; then he was sent successively to two Catholic schools, and from twelve years of age became his own instructor. By the time he was thirty years old, Pope had realized a sum sufficient to purchase the villa at Twickenham where he resided till his death in 1744. A monument erected to him in the parish church of Twickenham is defaced by a priggish and conceited epitaph:

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"Heroes and kings your distance keep,

In peace let one poor poet sleep,
Who never flattered folks like you-
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too."

The principal works of Pope are his "Pastorals," "Odes," "Windsor Forest," "Epistles," "Satires," "Essay on Criticism," "Essay on Man," ," "The Rape of the Lock," "The Dunciad," and translations of the Iliad and the Odyssy of Homer. "The Dying Christian to his Soul" is the same poem, in its third stage of hopeful Christianity, which we have previously remarked in the intermediate version of Flatman, as having had its origin with the Emperor Hadrian. The "Messiah," a sacred eclogue, composed of several passages of Isaiah the prophet, written in imitation of Virgil's "Pollio," was first published in No. 378 of the "Spectator" (Wednesday, May 14th, 1712), with the following short introduction by the Spectator himself: "I will make no apology for entertaining the reader with the following poem, which is written by a great Genius, a Friend of mine in the Country, who is not ashamed to employ his Wit in the praise of his Maker."

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying-
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
"Sister spirit, come away!"
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes, it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting?

THE MESSIAH.

Ye nymphs of Solyma, begin the song;
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.
The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades,
The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids,
Delight no more-O Thou my voice inspire,
Who touched Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire!

Rapt into future times, the bard begun : A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son! From Jesse's root behold a Branch arise, Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies; The ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move, And on its top descends the mystic dove. Ye heaven! from high the dewy nectar pour, And in soft silence shed the kindly shower! The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, From storms a shelter and from heat a shade.

All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail; Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;

Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,

And white-robed Innocence from heaven descend.
Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
Oh, spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born!
See, nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring;
See lofty Lebanon his head advance;

See nodding forests on the mountains dance;
See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise;
And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!
Hark a glad voice the lonely desert cheers:
Prepare the way! a God! a God appears!
A God! a God! the vocal hills reply;
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo! earth receives Him from the bending skies;
Sink down, ye mountains; and ye valleys rise;
With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay;
Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way!
The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold:
Hear Him, ye deaf; and all ye blind behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day;
'Tis He the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm the unfolding ear;
The dumb shall sing; the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air;
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs He raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms;
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes;
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;

But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son

Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun;
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field.
The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise;
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragons' late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn,
The spiry fir and stately box adorn:

The leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.

The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery band the tiger lead.

The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake;
Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,
And with their forky tongue shall innocently play.
Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!
See a long race the spacious courts adorn!
See future sons and daughters, yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend!
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,
And heaped with products of Sabean springs.
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,

And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fixed his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

THOMAS PARNELL, whose father, though the proprietor of considerable estates in Ireland, was descended from an ancient Cheshire family, was born in 1679 at Dublin, where also he received his university education. He entered into holy orders, and in his twenty-sixth year was appointed to the archdeaconry of Clogher by the bishop of that diocese. Later, when a providential change of political conviction, which by early education and habit were identical with those of Addison and his friendswith whom he was, to a small extent, a fellow-contributor to the Spectator" and the "Guardian"-made him eligible for preferment under Tory auspices, he received, through the interest of Swift, the living of Finglass, in the diocese of Dublin, worth £400 a year. But no preferment could make him love his native country; and he spent a large proportion of his time in London, where his pulpit ministrations were very popular and effective.

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Always liable to great inequality of spirits, his fits of depression became longer and more frequent, from grief for the loss of his wife, an amiable young lady of much worth and beauty, who died a few years after their mar