An ancient ridge of sturdy oaks deep-fang d,
Torn off by blast impetuous, many a rood
Rolls down the steepy cliff; in subject lake
Far plung'd, with foamy roar :,and various thunder
Shakes all the adjacent vale. The melting hills
Subsiding, in their basis solv'd, lie hid

In furious blaze and smoke. His voice, which forın'd From shapeless chaos, the vast moving world, Almighty bids the wheels of nature stop;

And loudly the eternal will proclaims,

That time shall be no more.

The trumpet's clang

Sonorous, by the angelic herald blown,
Breaks through the silent grave: from putrid forms
New-quicken'd, calls the trembling sinners near,
Reluctant and appall'd. They shudd'ring stand;
Convinc'd too late, what 'twas to banter heav'n,
Or ridicule the threats of hell. In vain,

They now invoke the hills, and falling rocks,
For friendly shelter. That tremendous crash,
When fiery bolts, loud-rat'ling, rent their way
Through heav'n's high convex; and the vibrant flame,
Dealing promiscuous death, huge antique piles
Resistless levels with the humble turf;

Not half such terror strikes. The Almighty arm,
Though prone to succour, in vindictive ire
Shines terrible. No chearing gleams dart through
The anxious mind, to calm its guilty fears,
Or kindle hope. But you! whose nobler souls,
High-soaring, strove to gain their native home
Supernal, guided by the unerring clue

Let down from heav'n; and scorn'd the wand'ring blaze
Of clouded reason, impotent: whose paths,
Bright-shining, were, though not unshaded, streak'd

N

With rays divine; whilst daily incense pierc'd
The opening skies, and drew down plenteous show'rs
Of blessing from the eternal fountain: raise

Your chearful heads; and reach the immortal crown.
Releas'd from death's domains, your captive clay,
Puts on the dazzling robes of triumph. See
The heav'nly guards stand waiting at your tombs,
With joyous smiles, to aid the happy flight.
Amidst the shouts of his surrounding train,
Your great deliv'rer, the returning God,

Now leaves the skies. Ethereal mountains flow
At his approach: and all the starry plains,
Wide-cleaving, form his glorious way. The earth
Dissolves: and heav'ns eternal pillars bow.
Victor and Judge, high seated on his throne,
Your faults he covers, and applauds your deeds
Beneficent; as to himself design'd.

Death, grave, and hell, with all the apostate pow'rs
Before him flee; and own his dread commands,

Resistless as their doom. His mighty word,

Which rais'd from native earth, the crumbling shrine,
Restores your scatter'd dust; and moulds anew
Bright agile limbs, from drossy matter freed,
Like his celestial form. With airy feet,
Quick as the mind, or as seraphic wings,
You climb the blissful orbs of endless light;
And leave behind, the crackling world in flames.

We have carefully followed the author's punctuation throughout this poem, not feeling curselves at liberty to alter what seems to have been his own peculiar system.

NICHOLAS AMHURST.

BORN ABOUT 1700.-DIed 1742.

Here mark what ills the scholar's life assail,
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.

(JOHNSON.)

The life of Nicholas Amhurst would abound with instruction, could materials be found from whence to compose it: unfortunately these are but scanty, and the following notices are principally taken from an article. by Dr. Kippis in the Biographia Britannica,

George Amhurst was vicar of Marden in Kent, and died there in 1707, whether this clergyman was the father or grandfather of Nicholas does not appear.

Nicholas Amhurst was born at Marden, but in what year is unknown. He was educated by his grandfather, a clergyman, and at Merchant Taylor's school, in London, from whence he was removed at a fit age to St. John's College, Cambridge. How long he continued at the university is also unknown. One thing appears certain, that he was expelled from thence for alledged irregularities and offence given to the head of his college: what these irregularities were, does not satisfactorily appear: by his own account he was a martyr to his principles, for he affirmed that his disgrace was the consequence of the liberality of his political sentiments, and his attachment to the Hanoverian succession.

Whatever it may have been, he meditated, and in some degree effected signal revenge: he removed to London, and commenced the life of an author by attacking with the most unsparing severity, the character, the discipline, and the learning of the university of which he had been a member. In this violent abuse he employed both prose and verse, and he spared neither individuals nor corporations; many of his invectives were personal, and appear to have been both illiberal and unjust. The principal organ through which he conveyed this scandal was a periodical work with the strange title of "Terræ Filius, or the secret history of the University of Oxford;" to which were added, when the papers were collected and published in two volumes 12mo. 1720,

some remarks upon a late book entitled, University Education, by R. Newton D.D. principal of Hart Hall." Of the origin of his assumed title he gives the following account in the first number:-"It has till of late been a custom, from time immemorial, for one of our family who was called Terræ Filius, to mount the rostrum at Oxford at certain seasons, and divert an innumerable crowd of spectators, who flocked thither to hear him from all parts, with a merry oration, in the Fescennine manner, interspersed with secret history, raillery, and sarcasm, as the occasions of the time supplied the matter. Something like this jovial solemnity were the famous Saturnalian feasts among the Romans." The work of Amhurst appears to have been worthy of its title, containing much abuse, some wit, and probably more malignity and exaggeration. It is now forgotten, and we shall not revive it in the small degree we are able, by further extending our remarks upon it.

The Terræ Filius was published twice a week according to the custom introduced by the Tatler, commencing on Wednesday January 11th, 1721, and concluding with the 50th number, on Saturday July 6th, of the following year.

He continued the attack in a poem entitled "Oculus Britanniæ," published 1721, and in a volume of miscellanies containing for the most part pieces composed when at the university.

What other literary works he engaged in, between the termination of this paper and the commencement of the more celebrated one named "The Craftsman," which first appeared in December 1726, or whether he was employed on any, does not appear. The main object of this paper was to attack the ministry of Sir Robert Walpole, and it was continued twice in the week for many years, with much spirit and success. He is said to have been assisted in this work by the great leaders of the opposition of that day, particularly by Bolinbroke, and Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath.

The Craftsman was edited under the assumed name of Caleb D'Anvers, but Amhurst was the avowed conductor. It was a work of first rate merit, and attained greater popularity than any previous publication of its kind; ten or twelve thousand copies are said to have been sold of every impression, Though its main object was to attack the ministry of the day, and serve the purposes of the party in opposition, yet it was not absolutely confined to temporary or political topics; many papers on general subjects of literature were admitted, and much wit, humour, and argumentation, frequently displayed. The best pieces were re-published in the Gentleman's Magazine of that time as they