Enchanted with all that was dazzling and fair, I followed the rainbow--I caught at the toy; And still in displeasure Thy goodness was there, Disappointing the hope, and defeating the joy. The divine goodness is seen in man’s disappointments, when the fulfilment of hope would have been loss, not gain. On the whole, however, Grant is less successful when writing to a text than when paraphrasing a context. His renderings of certain Psalms are among the best attempts of the kind. This praise applies to his version of Psalm 49; less unreservedly to his adaptation of Psalm 2. In rendering Psalm 71, Grant gave sentiment too loose a rein. Addison had translated the opening verses of Psalm 19, beginning “The spacious firmament on high.” Grant composed what he called “a sequel or counterpart” to Addison’s hymn, corresponding to the latter portion of Psalm 19 as Addison’s fragment corresponds to the earlier portion. Grant’s supplement ends thus: Almighty Lord! the sun shall fail, The moon forget her nightly tale, And deepest silence hush on high The radiant chorus of the sky; But, fixed for everlasting years, Unmoved amid the wreck of spheres, Thy word shall shine in cloudless day, When heaven and earth have passed away. This is fine, but Grant here hardly bears comparison with Addison: it is the fate of sequels to prove inferior to their forerunners. There is nothing in Grant’s version to equal Addison’s close, where the sun, moon, and stars are Forever singing as they shine, “The hand that made us is divine.” On the other hand, Grant falls very little below Milton in his imitation of part of Psalm 84. I must find room to quote it in full. How deep the joy, Almighty Lord, Thy altars to the heart afford! With envying eyes I see The swallow fly to nestle there, And find within the house of prayer A bliss denied to me! Compelled by day to roam for food Where scorching suns or tempests rude Their angry influence fling, O, gladly in that sheltered nest She smooths, at eve, her ruffled breast, And folds her weary wing. Thrice happy wand’rer! fain would I, Like thee, from ruder climates fly, That seat of rest to share; Opprest with tumult, sick with wrongs, How oft my fainting spirit longs To lay its sorrows there! Oh! ever on that holy ground The cov’ring cherub Peace is found, With brooding wings serene; And Charity’s seraphic glow, And gleams of glory that foreshow A higher, brighter scene. For even that refuge but bestows A transient tho’ a sweet repose, For one short hour allowed;-- Then upwards we shall take our flight To hail a spring without a blight, A heaven without a cloud! Had Grant ever studied rabbinic commentaries? For this is the very use made of the eighty-fourth Psalm in the Midrash. The earthly pilgrimage leads to the heavenly Zion.