[4] The Humanitarians held that God was to be understood as having really a human form.—See Clarke’s Sermons, vol. 1, page 26, fol. edit. “The drift of Milton’s argument leads him to employ language which would appear, at first sight, to verge upon their doctrine: but it will be seen immediately that he guards himself against the charge of having adopted one of the most ignorant errors of the dark ages of the church.”—Dr. Sumner’s Notes on Milton’s “Christian Doctrine.” The opinion could never have been very general. Andeus, a Syrian of Messopotamia, who lived in the fourth century, was condemned for the doctrine, as heretical. His few disciples were called Anthropmorphites. _See Du Pin._ [5] It is remarkable that Drake, of whose “Culprit Fay,” we have just spoken is, perhaps, the sole poet who has employed, in the description of Niagara, imagery which does not produce a pathetic impression. In one of his minor poems he has these magnificent lines— How sweet ’twould be, _when all the air_ _In moonlight swims_, along the river To couch upon the grass and hear Niagara’s everlasting voice Far in the deep blue West away; That dreamy and poetic noise We mark not in the glare of day— Oh, how unlike its torrent-cry When o’er the brink the tide is driven _As if the vast and sheeted sky_ _In thunder fell from Heaven!_ * * * * * A DREAM OF THE DEAD. BY G. HILL, AUTHOR OF “TITANIA’S BANQUET.” Who, when my thoughts at midnight deep, And senses drowned in slumber lie, And star and moon their still watch keep, Is imaged to my sleeping eye? The gems amid the braids that ’twine The dark locks from her pale brow thrown, Faintly, as dews by eve wept, shine. Her cheek—its living tints are flown. Sure I should know that fond, fixed gaze, Those hands whose fairy palms infold Gently my own, the smile that plays Around those lips now pale and cold. O! ever thus, as Night repeats Her silent star-watch, come to me! More dear than all which living greets My waking eye, a dream of thee. * * * * * THE DREAM IS PAST. COMPOSED BY STEPHEN GLOVER. _Philadelphia_: John F. Nunns, _184 Chesnut Street_. [Illustration: musical score] [Illustration: musical score] The dream is past, and with it fled, The hopes that once my passion fed; And darkly die, mid grief and pain, The joys which gone come not again. My soul in silence and in tears, Has cherish’d now for many years, A love for one who does not know The thoughts that in my bosom glow.