the "Gesta Romanorum," and we present the rader with the analysis of it below, as given by Warton in his History of Engl sh Poetry. The poem, however, is too long for our limits, and no extracts wou'd do it justice; but we will give a few lines to show its style. The last instance of the angel's seeming injustice, is that of pushing the guide from the bridge into the river. At this the Hermit is unable to suppress his indignation:

Wild sparkling rage inflames the Father's eyes;
He bursts the bonds of fear, and madly cries,
"Detested wretch!"-but scarce his speech began,
When the strange partner seem'd no longer man:
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet;
His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
Celestial odors fill the purple air;

And wings, whose colors glitter'd on the day,
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
The form ethereal bursts upon his sight,

And moves in all the majesty of light.

Another very interesting piece of Parnell's is his ballad, " Edwin of the Green, a fairy tale, in the ancient English style:" but its length excludes it

1 A devout hermit lived in a cave, near which a shepherd folded his flock. Many of the sheep being stolen, the shepherd was unjustly killed by his master, as being concerned in the theft. The hermit, seeing an innocent man put to death, began to suspect the existence of a Divine Providence, and resolved no longer to perplex himself with the useless severities of religion, but to mix in the world. In travelling from his retirement, he was met by an angel in the figure of a man, who said, "I am an angel, and am sent by God to be your companion on the road." They entered a city, and begged for lodging at the house of a knight, who entertained them at a splendid supper. In the night, the angel rose from his bed and strangled the knight's only child, who was asleep in the cradle. The hermit was astonished at this barbarous return for so much hospitality, but was afraid to make any remonstrance to his companion. Next morning they went to another city. Here they were liberally received in the house of an opulent citizen; but in the night the angel rose, and stole a golden cup of inestimable value. The hermit now concluded that his companion was a bad angel. In travelling forward the next morning, they passed over a bridge, about the middle of which they met a poor man, of whom the angel asked the way to the next city. Having received the desired information, the angel pushed the poor man into the water, where he was immediately drowned. In the evening they arrived at the house of a rich man, and begging for a lodging, were ordered to sleep in a shed with the cattle. In the morning the angel gave the rich man the cup which he had stolen. The hermit, amazed that the cup which was stolen from their friend and benefactor should be given to one who refused them a lodging, began to be now convinced that his companion was the devil; and begged to go on alone. But the angel said, "Hear me, and depart. When you lived in your hermitage, a shepherd was killed by his master. He was innocent of the supposed offence; but had he not been then killed, he would have committed crimes in which he would have died impenitent. His master endeavors to atone for the murder, by dedicating the remainder of his days to alms and deeds of charity. I strangled the child of the knight. But know, that the father was so intent on heaping up riches for his child, as to neglect those acts of public munificence for which he was before so distinguished, and to which he has now returned. I stole the golden cup of the hospitable citizen. But know, that from a life of the strictest temperance, he became, in consequence of possessing this cup, a perpetual drunkard, and is now the most abstemious of men. I threw the poor man into the water. He was then honest and religious. But know, had he walked one half of a mile further, he would have murdered a man in a state of mortal sin. I gave the golden cup to the rich man, who refused to take us within his roof. He has therefore received his reward in this world, and in the next will suffer the pains of hell for his inhospitality." The hermit fell prostrate at the angel's feet, and, requesting forgiveness, returned to his hermitage, fully convinced of the wisdom and justice of God's government.

from our pages. The following very beautiful "Hymn to Contentment" will, however, give a very good idea of this author's manner

HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.

Lovely, lasting peace of mind!
Sweet delight of human kind!
Heavenly born, and bred on high,
To crown the favorites of the sky
With more of happiness below,
Than victors in a triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,
To lay thy meek, contented head;
What happy region dost thou please
To make the seat of calms and ease?
Ambition searches all its sphere
Of pomp and state, to meet thee there.
Increasing avarice would find
Thy presence in its gold enshrined.
The bold adventurer ploughs his way,
Through rocks amidst the foaming sea,
To gain thy love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the rocks and waves.
The silent heart, which grief assails,
Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales,
Sees daisies open, rivers run,
And seeks (as I have vainly done)
Amusing thought; but learns to know
That Solitude's the nurse of woe.
No real happiness is found

In trailing purple o'er the ground:
Or in a soul exalted high,

To range the circuit of the sky,
Converse with stars above, and know
All Nature in its forms below;
The rest it seeks, in seeking dies,
And doubts at last for knowledge rise.
Lovely, lasting peace, appear!
This world itself, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden blest,
And man contains it in his breast.

Twas thus, as under shade I stood,

I sung my wishes to the wood,
And, lost in thought, no more perceived
The branches whisper as they waved:
It seem'd as all the quiet place
Confess'd the presence of his grace.
When thus she spoke-Go rule thy will,
Bid thy wild passions all be still,

Know God-and bring thy heart to know
The joys which from religion flow:
Then every grace shall prove its guest,
And I'll be there to crown the rest.
Oh! by yonder mossy seat,
In my hours of sweet retreat,
Might I thus my soul employ,

With sense of gratitude and joy:
Raised as ancient prophets were,
In heavenly vision, praise, and prayer;
Pleasing all men, hurting none,

Pleased and bless'd with God alone:
Then while the gardens take my sight,
With all the colors of delight;
While silver waters glide along,
To please my ear, and court my song;
I'll lift my voice, and tune my string,
And thee, great Source of Nature, sing.
The sun that walks his airy way,
To light the world, and give the day;
The moon that shines with borrow'd light;
The stars that gild the gloomy night;
The seas that roll unnumber'd waves;
The wood that spreads its shady leaves;
The field whose ears conceal the grain,
The yellow treasure of the plain;
All of these, and all I see,

Should be sung, and sung by me:
They speak their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the tongue of man.

Go search among your idle dreams,
Your busy or your vain extremes;
And find a life of equal bliss,

Or own the next begun in this.

WILLIAM PENN. 1644-1718.

WE come now to one of the purest and most exalted characters on the page of history;-to one who laid the foundation of a great state in the strictest justice and equity; established the utmost freedom of conscience in religion; and demonstrated to the world that the most potent weapons to subdue the savage heart, are the peace principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

William Penn, the only son of Admiral Penn, was born in London, October 14, 1644. His early education was very carefully attended to, and in 1660 he entered Oxford University. His first bias towards the doctrines of the Society of Friends was produced by the preaching of Thomas Loe, the effect of which was, that Penn and some of his fellow-students withdrew from attendance on the public worship of the established church, and held private prayer meetings. They were fined by the college, but this did not deter them. The principles which he adopted displeased his father very much, who repeatedly banished him from his house; but when it appeared that his son's opinions were unalterable, a reconciliation took place between them. In 1668, he began to preach, and also published his first work, «Truth Exalted." Like many others of the early Friends, Penn was repeatedly thrown into prison; and during his confinement in the Tower of London, he wrote his most popular work, "No Cross, no Crown,"-an able exposition of the views of his society. In 1670 the Conventicle act was passed, and Penn was one of the first sufferers under it. He was tried for preaching to what was called "a riotous and seditious assembly;" but the jury, in opposition to the

direction of the bench, had the firmness and moral courage to give a verdict of acquittal.

We now come to the most important event of Penn's life,—the establishment of the colony of Pennsylvania. In 1681 a large tract of country on the west side of the Delaware was granted by Charles II. to Penn and his heirs in consideration of a debt of £16,000 due from the Crown to Admiral Penn, for money advanced for the service of the navy. He set sail from England in August, 1682, in the ship Welcome, and arrived at Newcastle on the 27th of October, where he was hailed with acclamations by the Swedes and Dutch already there. Thence the colony proceeded up the river, and in the latter end of the year located the town and borough of Philadelphia, "having a high and dry bank next to the water, with a shore ornamented with a fine view of pine trees growing upon it." Penn solemnly declared that he "came to the charge of the province for the Lord's sake." "I wanted." says he, "to afford an asylum to the good and oppressed of every nation. I aimed to form a government which might be an example. I desired to show men as free and happy as they could be. I had also kind views towards the Indians."

In about two years Penn was called to return back to England; and from his intimacy with James II., he was enabled to procure the release of his Quaker brethren, of whom fourteen hundred and eighty were in prison at the accession of that monarch. Indeed he was perpetually engaged in deeds of kindness for his people, at the same time endeavoring to clear the way for his return, and to bring out his family to abide for life. But various obstacles hindered him from year to year, so that it was not till 1699 that he and his family embarked for America. They arrived in November, and were received with universal joy, on account of his known intention to stay for life. But in this intention he was overruled, partly by the owners of land in Pennsylvania, dwelling in England, who felt that Penn could plead their interests with the crown better than any other one; and partly by the female members of the family, who, after the style to which they had been accustomed, could not well bear the rude and unformed state of things in the new colony. He says in a letter to James Logan, July, 1701: "I cannot prevail on my wife to stay, and still less with Tishe.1 I know not what to do." Accordingly he returned the latter part of that year; and after experiencing various vicissi tudes, and especially the most heartless ingratitude from those whom he had most served, he died at his seat in Ruscombe, in Berkshire, July 30, 1718.

Penn was the author of numerous works, which were collected and published in 1726, in two volumes, folio. Besides the many able works in defence of the religious views of his sect, he wrote others which would be considered of more general interest. Of these are his "Reflections and Maxims relating to the Conduct of Life." It is doubtful whether any other work of the size can be found, containing so much sound, practical wisdom. The following is the preface to the same:

PREFACE TO HIS "MAXIMS."

Reader, this Enchiridion I present thee with, is the fruit of solitude: a school few care to learn in, though none instruct us better. Some parts of it are the result of serious reflection, others

1 His daughter Letitia.

2 A Greek word, compounded of en (ev), “in," and cheir (xg), "the hand," and corresponds to u word "manual." See the same word in the selections from Quarles, page 188.

the flashings of lucid intervals, written for private satisfaction, and now published for a help to human conduct.

The author blesseth God for his retirement, and kisses tha: gentle hand which led him into it: for though it should prove barren to the world, it can never do so to him.

He has now had some time he could call his own, a property he was never so much master of before: in which he has taken a view of himself and the world; and observed wherein he hath hit and missed the mark; what might have been done, what mended, and what avoided in his human conduct: together with the omissions and excesses of others, as well societies and governments, as private families and persons. And he verily thinks, were he to live over his life again, he could not only, with God's grace, serve him, but his neighbor and himself, better than he hath done, and have seven years of his time to spare. And yet, perhaps, he hath not been the worst or the idlest man in the world; nor is he the oldest. And this is the rather said, that it might quicken thee, reader, to lose none of the time that is yet thine.

There is nothing of which we are apt to be so lavish as of time, and about which we ought to be more solicitous; since without it we can do nothing in this world. Time is what we want most, but what, alas! we use worst; and for which God will certainly most strictly reckon with us, when time shall be no more.

It is of that moment to us in reference to both worlds, that I can hardly wish any man better, than that he would seriously consider what he does with his time; how and to what end he employs it; and what returns he makes to God, his neighbor, and himself for it. Will he never have a ledger for this; this, the greatest wisdom and work of life?

To come but once into the world, and trifle away our true enjoyment of it, and of ourselves in it, is lamentable indeed. This one reflection would yield a thinking person great instruction. And, since nothing below man can so think, man in being thoughtless must needs fall below himself. And that, to be sure, such do, as are unconcerned in the use of their most precious time.

This is but too evident, if we will allow ourselves to consider, that there is hardly any thing we take by the right end, or improve to its just advantage.

We understand little of the works of God, either in nature or grace. We pursue false knowledge, and mistake education extremely. We are violent in our affections; confused and immethodical in our whole life; making that a burden which was given for a blessing; and so of little comfort to ourselves or others: misapprehending the true notion of happiness, and so missing of the right use of life, and way of happy living.