But let us attend to the several particulars which the evangelists relate concerning the whole of this transaction, and some incidents preceding it.

About three days before this agony in the garden, Jesus, having been informed of a request made by certain Greeks to one of his disciples to be introduced to him, he was thereby reminded of the great accession which should be made to his church by the admission of the gentiles into it; and consequently of his own death, by which provision should be made for their admission, and that a few days only would intervene before that event. On this occasion he found himself so affected by the prospect, that he openly declared, (John xii. 27.) "Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say?-(shall I say) Father save me from this hour?" So I think (with a very judicious critic,) the passage ought to be pointed, continuing the question to the end of this clause--he adds, "but for this cause came I unto this hour." As if he had said, "In the near view I have of sufferings and death, shall I indulge this strong reluctance, implanted in animal nature, against them, so far as to petition my Father to excuse me from the obligation, and release me from the necessity of enduring them? No. For it was for this purpose, that I might suffer death, and thereby a mean be provided for the reconciliation of the Gentiles and their admission into the Church of God, that I was sent into the world, and have been conducted by the divine power and providence thus near the important season and event. Wherefore, the matter of my request to him on this occasion shall be this rather; Father glorify thy name. May the knowledge of thy perfections, the honour of thy character, the purposes of thy benevolence and wisdom, and the extent of thy moral government over mankind be effectually promoted by every event thou hast appointed unto me." Observe, I pray you, the steadiness and temper with which our Lord spoke on this occasion concerning his approaching sufferings and death, even when he owned, that his soul was troubled with the prospect.

Let us now proceed to attend our Lord through the several circumstances which we have recorded of his agony in the garden. That evening he had celebrated his last passover; during which he said to his disciples, that he had earnestly desired to eat that passover with them before he suffered. Afterwards he had instituted another religious fes

tival in perpetual memorial of his own sufferings and death, and of that new covenant, or dispensation of God to mankind, which is confirmed by the shedding of his blood. He then went out of the house and city, where these things had been done, unto Mount Olivet, Probably, it was by this time late in the evening. There he told his disciples, "all ye shall be offended because of me this night;" for that the prophecy was going to be fulfilled immediately, which saith, "I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad." At the same time he informed them, that he should rise again from the dead, and promised, that when he was risen, he would go before them into Gallilee.. Observe again, with what temper he still spoke of his death, though now in very near view.

After some other discourses with his disciples he left the mountain, and came down to a place in the valley called Gethsemane, where was a garden, to which he and his disciples were wont to resort.

When we consider our Lord in this situation, well-knowing, that the series of his sufferings, which were to end only in death on a cross, was to begin within the space of an hour, or at most two; and that he was going to the place where the first scene would open, through the treachery of Judas; it is natural to conclude, that his mind now laboured with most weighty and affecting thoughts; and perhaps, the darkness and solemn silence of the night might contribute somewhat to urge the painful impression deeper on his spirits; neither doth it seem at all strange, that the labours of his mind, united with the innocent reluctances of nature against sufferings and death, should be too much for his bodily frame, which, probably, was very delicate and susceptible of impressions, to bear them undisturbed; or that great agitations were occasioned by them through the whole nervous system: and that these, in turn, greatly increased the distressed state of his mind. This seems to me to have been pretty much the case with hi him, and the natural cause of what followed, No doubt, the whole was under the direction of the infinitely powerful and wise, hand of his heavenly Father, yet operating, as usually on other occasions, by the stated train of natural causes and effects. Jesus regarded it as a cup which his Father had put into his hand.

VOL. II.

(To be continued in our next.)

-2 U

REVIEW,

"STILL PLEAS'D TO PRAISE, YET NOT AFRAID TO BLAME."

POPE.

ART. I.-Saul: a Poem in 2 parts; by William Sotheby, Esq.

4to.

Whatever disputes may exist prosperity has wrought its worst about the hero of the Iliad, or moral effect, a man subjected to the hero of the Paradise Lost, the most complicated distress which every body must be convinced may be imagined to attend the fall that the "Saul" of Mr. Sotheby of one who, with his virtue, lost might with much greater pro- not the remembrance that he was priety have been called "David," once virtuous and happy. who is indisputably the principal By the author's rigid adherence figure in six, and the most in- to the phraseology of the scripteresting in eight of the books of tures, from which he seldom dewhich this poem consists. parts except by some awkward Without a strict attachment inversion to suit his measure, we to the laws which critical writers, are constantly liable to apprehend ancient or modern, have esta- that we are attending a mere blished for epic song, we think copyist, and not accompanying Mr. S. has chosen a very diffi- a spirited and successful imitacult subject, and we are sorry tor.

to add, that in his management Saul is first introduced as of it, we have experienced con- "smitten of God," " rebellious," siderable disappointment. We (6 urged by lust of spoil," a had imagined that with proper character entitled to our interest skill, a poem, upon the charac- only from his sufferings. He afterter and history of Saul, might wards comes before us afraid of have been constructed, full of engaging, and envious at the melancholy interest: in which courage of the shepherd boy for Saul would have been conspicuous, not wholly corrupted by his elevation, and entitled to more than compassion in his fall.

offering to engage in battle, with Goliah of the Philistines. This envy is exasperated to madness when the daughters of Jerusa With two exceptions, the brief lem sing "Saul has slain his history of Saul which is furnished thousands, and David his ten thouby the sacred historian is abridged sands ;" and the monarch of Israther than expanded by the poet's rael forms his purpose of destroyfancy, and moulded by his knowing the youth. After some sucledge of the human heart, so as to cessless attempts to accomplish exhibit a man in whom unusual this base and cruel purpose we

of his eye

Looking delight on all. That form was, Saul:

nearly lose sight of Saul till to- Like sunshine from the radiance wards the close of the poem, when he relents on account of David sparing his life, visits the witch of Endor, sees Samuel, and at length after fighting with the fury of despair, kills himself.

The two exceptions which we have noticed to the general defect in this poem are the description of Saul troubled by an evil spirit, and his visit to the witch of Endor. These shew indeed that the poet has not taken a subject

-Quid ferre recusent -humeri,

but that his defects must be attributed to the want of that "labor improbus," without which no talents will enable their possessor to obtain the wreath destined to adorn the brow of the successful votary of the epic muse. In a happy moment of inspiration the poet gives this fine description of the spirit, by which Saul was distressed:

Saul beautiful, Saul guiltless,
Saul belov'd,

Unsceptre'd yet, not wearing other
pomp

Than youth's celestial graces.
Such its shape.

1st Book. The second book is chiefly occupied with a description of the armies, and with addresses made by Abner to each of the tribes distinctly; and these ad. dresses we are constrained to acknowledge appeared to us intolerably heavy.

We have heard of some persons invited to be guests at a feast, who pleaded naturally enough such excuses as these,- - One said I have bought a yoke of oxen, and I must needs go and prove them, I pray thee have me excused: and another said, &c. ;" the parable is well known. But there is peculiar originality and we fear very little conformity to truth or nature in these excuses adopted in the heat of battle, to justify the soldier in quitting his post. Let the reader judge.

-Some made plea Of roofs new rais'd, not dedicated: Some

Of vineyards newly set, whereof their hands

Had gathered no increase: others alleg'd

Vows incomplete, the bonds of love betroth'd.

Hath stirr'd thee up, thou, God,
my blood accept!
But if the sons of men, light on
thy head

The vengeance: thou whose rage
has driv'n me forth
From out the Lord's inheritance,
and said." &c.

The following is the description of Saul vowing at the altar the destruction of David

And o'er the altar bow'd. None heard his prayer.

His pale lip quivered with th' un