more extensive signification. It is properly applied to every poem conducted in dialogue. This form of composition was very common in the East. The following extract from Calmet's Dictionary of the Bible, illustrates this subject, and will be read with interest. "To many readers it will doubtless seem, at first sight, sufficiently singular, to select, in explanation of Scripture, a fragment which relates to the telling of a story from the Arabian Nights' Entertainments; but when we are looking for pictures of manners, we must take them from where they happen to occur; we cannot vary the descriptions of travellers to illustrate a subject on which we are seeking information, nor adopt them, unless they naturally apply to it; and when we are happy enough to light on such as are really applicable, even then we must be careful that our inferences from them be just, and easy, and appropriate. "In a public room in Nineveh, I perceived a little man step forth from the crowd, and begin to pronounce a sort of prologue; it appeared, from his cadences, to be metrical, and seemed, by the little impression it made on his auditors, to have nothing particular to recommend it. "At length, however, he paused, but soon began again to hold forth."He is going to tell a story," said my interpreter. The attention of all was fixed upon him, and he proceeded with a modulation of tones, a variety of action, and an energy of expression, that I think I have never heard or seen excelled. His action was indeed singularly admirable, and I could perceive that he was occasionally speaking in the tones of a man to a woman. The linguist, occasionally, interpreted what the story-teller was saying, and I soon began to suspect that it was a story I had read more than once, in the Arabian Nights, though altered, and in some measure dramatized, by the speaker. The story was that of the little Hunchback, choked by a bone. In this character, the story-teller represented his death: then suddenly, he started up and began the most doleful lamentation of a woman, and exhibited such a scene of burlesque distress, as I never witnessed. All burst into torrents of laughter. And the orator, according to custom, broke off in the middle of an interesting scene."" This species of composition is exemplified in the Bucolics of Virgi', and in the satires and odes of Horace. By means of dialogue, a more vivid idea is conveyed, of the manners, habits, and passions of men. The poem thus constructed, is capable of greater effect in being sung or recited by a band. a band. ampies of dramatic poetry abound in the writings of the Hebrews. Probably, many of the poetic parts of Scripture, which are involved in much obscurity, may be of this kind. Farther Ex study may bring to light the various persons and scenes intended to be represented. The hundred and twenty first Psalm is dramatic in its character. It represents the king, preparing to go forth to battle. He first approaches the ark of God, upon Mount Zion, and implores Divine assistance, devoutly declaring, that all his reliance is upon heavenly aid. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, My help is from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth." The high priest then answers him from the tabernacle : "He will not suffer thy foot to slip. Shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper; The Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand The sun shall not smite thee by day, Nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; He shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in, From this time, and even forever more.' This is the most simple form of dramatic composition. But, simple as it is, it invests the subject with peculiar interest, and gives vividness and beauty to the poem. The twenty-fourth Psalm is of a similar nature. It was evidently written upon the occasion of the induction of the ark of God to Mount Zion. The Levites led the procession, accompanied by a great variety of vocal and instrumental music. This ode was, probably, sung in responses, by the people and the Levites, when they arrived at the summit of the mountain. Imagine the ark of God, to be moving in a grand and solemn procession of the whole Israelitish nation. As the procession advances, they all unite in singing the first part of the Psalm. When arrived at the gates of the temple, the Levites and the people sing, alternately, the remainder. LEVITES. "Lift up your heads, Oh ye gates; And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; PEOPLE... "Who is this King of glory?" LEVITES. The Lord, strong and mighty. The Lord, mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, Oh ye gates; And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; PEOPLE. "Who is this King of glory?" ALL. "The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of glory." It is, at once, perceived that the effect of such a composition, sung in this manner, must be very powerful. And it will, also, be perceived, that the beauty of this Psalm is greatly enhanced, by keeping in mind the occasion, and the particular solemnity for which it was composed. Unless, indeed, we have respect to these points, the peculiar force and beauty of the composition is, in a great degree, lost. This singing by alternate choirs, is occasionally practised at the present day, with great effect. The following beautiful ode was written for such a purpose, and is often thus sung: T. -"Watchman! Tell us of the night, W.-"Traveller! O'er yon mountain's height, T."Watchman! Dces its beauteous ray, W.-"Traveller! Yes; it brings the day, T. -"Watchman! Tell us of the night, T. Watchman! Let thy wanderings cease; W. Traveller! Lo! the Prince of Peace, The Song of Solomon, and the Book of Job, are of a dramatic character, though neither of them can be considered as perfect dramas. Several individuals are introduced, and nearly the whole of both of these poems is conducted in the form of dialogue. The limits of so brief an article as this, will not allow of even an analysis, of either of these sublime, yet obscure compositions. But they both rank high in the scale of poetic excellence. The greatest beauty of imagery, of sublimity of sentiment, of depth of pathos, of harmony of expression, may be found in these inspired writings. And whoever would cultivate vigor of imagination, power of language, or refinement of taste, cannot go to a better model, than the sacred ScripHere also is the fountain of eternal truth. He who would understand his nature and his destiny, who would be happy in this world, and who would save his soul, must go to the Bible, and imbibe its blessed spirit. tures. THE AFTERNOON MEETING: OR, NOTES OF A SERIES OF FAMILIAR RELIGIOUS LECTURES TO THE YOUNG.* No. I. Acts x 33. Now therefore are we all here present before God, to hear all things that are commanded thee of God. CORNELIUS was a Roman Soldier, stationed among the Jews; in great ignorance, probably, in regard to the truths of real religion, yet, it seems, a devout man-one who feared God-conscientious and faithful, as far as his knowledge went. "Of good report among all the nations of the Jews;"-this was not a common case. The Jews, as subjects to the Roman yoke, were not disposed to think too well of any Roman,-especially of those set immediately over them. The peculiarity in the case of Cornelius was this: His desire to do his duty, was in advance of his knowledge of it. The majority of mankind act differently: they wait for duty to force itself upon them before they will attend to it. Cornelius embraced joyfully the opportunity opened to him for instruction, and showed a desire, at the same time, that others should enjoy the same privilege. He sent out for his friends and neighbors to be at his house when Peter should arrive. *These paragraphs are really what they profess to be,-notes of a series of familiar lectures to the young, taken from memory by one of the audience. They present religious truth in a simple and practical form, and they may perhaps be profitable to our younger readers. "And now are we all here present," says Cornelius to Peter, "to hear all that you have to say to us." It was a religious meeting at a private dwelling, just such as we ourselves are now holding. Have you all this spirit; desire to know and do your duty; or have you come from bad motives?-professing to worship God, but being really insincere. It is the duty of all present, who are not already Christians, immediately to become such, and then to engage actively in the work of doing good to others. Many persons profess a desire to become religious, who in reality have no such desire. They would like the consequences of being Christians; but, in heart, they cling to the world. They are afraid to neglect the subject altogether; they would be alarmed at the thought of losing all interest in it; but still, are never decided to take it up in earnest. They wish to keep it within reach, so that they may be able, as they think, to lay hold of it in an emergency. They go to religious meetings, and converse with pious friends, attend to some religious duties, to reading and prayer, and thus keep up, from week to week, and from month to month, just about the same degree of interest; and, in this way are kept quiet, and are content to go on. There is very little hope in the case of such persons. Some Christians go on in pretty much the same way. They have consecrated themselves, really and solemnly, to God; but they have not done it fully enough; they do not renew the consecration continually; and the consequence is, that their attachment becomes weaker and weaker, instead of constantly increasing in strength. Yet, if they can but just keep conscience quiet, they are contented. They are afraid to neglect their Bibles or prayer, or other religious duties; but if they can but keep religion within reach, they are quiet. They may be compared to a person in a boat, sailing along by the shore, afraid to brave the open sea, and so keeping constantly near enough to come on shore if threatened with any danger. It is the duty of all who hope they are Christians, to engage actively in the work of doing good to others. Some persons who are desirous of doing good, are not willing to do it openly, or in such a way as to bring into view their own personal interest in religion. Thus, a man may invite a friend to attend a religious meeting; but he is not willing perhaps, to offer a prayer in that meeting. Others are even unwilling to be known as Christians. This is wrong; it is ungrateful. Such an individual is exerting the same influence as an irreligious person. An individual is exerting an influence in favor of religion, simply by being known as a Christian. Our sins have been open and public; the renunciation ought to be open too. |