adultery remains, of which Cromwell is thought to be clear; and, according to Mr. Harris, it should seem that, compared with this crime," Diffimulation, hypocrify, ingratitude, and murder, are light as air."-We fay murder, becaufe nothing can juftify the killing of our fellow creature, but immediate felf-prefervation, or the good of fociety. And though it may not deserve that name in those who acted upon principle, and from a perfuafion that the death of the King was neceffary for the fecurity of public liberty, it was the most atrocious kind of murder in Cromwell, who was fo far from having the good of fociety in view, that he proved a more oppreffive tyrant, than his fovereign whofe blood he spilt. Yet, Mr. Harris concludes, that "he left behind him a neverdying fame; and if he cannot be ranked among the best, he undoubtedly is to be placed among the greatest of princes."

Certainly if bold and fuccefsful villany intitles a man to be called Great, Cromwell has a right to the appellation. But if goodness is infeparable from true greatness, no man ever had worfe pretenfions to that character. His public conduct, as has been seen, was fuch as muft render his memory odious to every friend to juftice and liberty. In his private capacity, he appears to have been by no means amiable. Tools he had many, but no friends; his familiarity was rudenefs, and his pleafantry buffoonery.

Upon the whole, we think Mr. Harris's fentiments with regard to Cromwell's character, are narrow, partial, and injudicious. And as to his manner of writing, which we have heretofore had occafion to cenfure, it is by no means improved; for it is as ufual, though not incorrect, yet extremely heavy, quaint, and inelegant.---Thus much we have thought ourselves obliged to observe, in juftice to the Public, and to our credit as impartial Reviewers. But forry we are to difapprove the work of a perfon of Mr. Harris's worthy character, as a hearty friend to liberty, both civil and religious, and a truly honest man and who likewife had acquitted himself fo much more to our fatisfaction, in his former compilations.

R-d

Poems on feveral Occafions. 8vo. 2 s. Rivington.

ATM

T the defire of the Earl of Bath, the ingenious Mrs. Carter has favoured the Public with a Collection of her Poems; and it is with pleafure we congratulate our Readers on the occafion. We can affure them that through the whole

H 4

adultery

of this collection, they will be entertained with the fame attic wit, the fame chafte philofophic fancy, and the fame harmony of numbers, which diftinguished the long admired Ode to Wijdom. The elegant Mufe, which fo early introduced this lady to the Groves of Academus, and the Lycian Walks, has never forfaken her. The rigid doctrines of the ftoic school, in which fhe has been fo much converfant, feem not in the least to have restrained her fancy, or to have communicated any thing of their rigour to her heart; and, though fhe is the tranflator of Epictetus, fhe is evidently the difciple of Plato. In all her Poems there is that fine fenfibility, ferene dignity, and lofty imagination, which characterize the writings of that divine philofopher. Her ftyle is perfectly Horatian, elegantly polifhed, and harmonioufly cafy. The curiofa felicitas dicendi, which genius alone, and the ear that nature has harmonized, can produce, is frequently to be found in these beautiful Poems, Some few, fome very few faults, quas aut incuria fudit, aut humana parum caveat natura, might perhaps be pointed out; but we have little inclination to look at thefe, while the eye is continually attracted by new beauties. We muft, however, complain, that our Poetefs has been too negligent about her Rhymes, which are often inconfonant; for we cannot help thinking that bad Rhymes are much worfe than no Rhymes at all. Poffibly fhe might imagine herfelf justified in this by the French and Italian Poets; but the perfection of English Poetry, and the delicacy of an English ear, will not bear even fo flight a defect. Mr. Pope could never endure an ill-match'd rhyme; and his imitator, Mrs. Jones, that other English Sappho, has also avoided this fault.

Prefixed to this little Volume is a fhort Encomium on the Authorefs, and her Works, by Lord Lyttelton, which reminds us of the ftyle and manner of Mr. Langhorne's Poem to the memory of Handel. [See Review, Vol. XXII. p. 261.]

On reading Mrs.'s Poems in Manufcript.

}

Such were the notes that ftruck the wondering ear
Of filent night, when, on the verdant banks
Of Siloe's hallow'd brook, celeftial harps,
Accorded to feraphic voices, fung
Glory to God on bigb, and on the earth
Peace, and good-will to men! Refume the Lyre,
Chauntress divine, and every Briton call
It's melody to hear-fo fhall thy ftrains,
More powerful than the fong of Orpheus, tame
The favage heart of brutal vice, and bend
At pure Religion's fhrine the ftubborn knees

of

Of bold Impiety--Greece fhall no more
Of Leftian Sappho boast, whofe wanton mufe,
Like a falfe Syren, while fhe charm'd, feduc'd
To guilt and ruin. For the facred head
Of Britain's Poetefs the VIRTUES twine
A nobler wreath, by them from Eden's grove
Unfading gather'd, and direct the hand
to fix it on her brows.

Of

The first Poem in this collection was written by our Poetess on her own birth-day, before fhe was eighteen years of age, and it scarce does greater honour to herself, than to that worthy parent who fuperintended her education, In what an uncommon degree muft that mind have been enlarged, which in fuch early years could produce the following beautiful and fentimental lines!

Through each event of this inconftant state,
Preferve my temper equal and fedate.
Give me a mind that nobly can defpife
The low defigns and little arts of vice.
Be my Religion fuch as taught by thee,
Alike from Pride and Superftition free.
Inform my Judgment, regulate my Will.
My Reason ftrengthen, and my Paffions ftill.

The Verfes on hearing a Lady fing, are as mufical and melodious as the tuneful voice they celebrate could poffibly be; and nothing can be more elegant than the compliment with which they conclude.

Sweet Echo, vocal Nymph, whofe mimic Tongue
Return'd the Mufic of my Delia's Song,
O ftill repeat the foft enchanting lay
That gently steals the ravifh'd foul away.
Shall founds like these in circling air be toft,
And in the ftream of vulgar noises loft?
Ye guardian Sylphs, who liften while fhe fings,
Bear the fweet accents on your rofy wings:
With ftudious care the fading notes retain,
Nor let that tuneful breath be spent in vain.

Yet, if too foon this tranfient pleasure fly,
A charm more lafting fhall the lofs supply.
While Harmony, with each attractive Grace,
Plays in the fair proportions of her face;
Where each foft air, engaging and ferene,
Beats measure to the well-tun'd mind within:

Alike her Singing and her Silence move,
Whose Voice is Mufic, and whofe Looks are Love.

⚫ An inftance of the defect in Rhyme, which we have hinted at.

In the Poem which fhe devotes to the Memory of her Sifter Poetefs, the late Mrs. Rowe, we know not which to admire moft, her ingenious Fancy or her friendly Heart. It may perhaps be objected that the compliments here paid to Mrs. Rowe, are too high, and that she had more Enthufiafm than Tafe; but who, notwithstanding, can be displeased with the following Lines?

Transported echoes bore the founds along,
And all creation liften'd to the fong;
Full, as when raptur'd Seraphs ftrike the lyre;
Chafte, as the Vestal's confecrated fire;
Soft, as the balmy airs that gently play
In the calm fan-fet of a vernal day;
Sublime as virtue; elegant as wit;
As fancy various, and as beauty fweet.
Applauding angels with attention hung
To learn the heav'nly accents from her tongue :
They, in the mid-night hour, beheld her rife
Beyond the verge of fublunary skies;

Where, rapt in joys to mortal sense unknown,
She felt a flame extatic as their own.

In a Poetical Epiftle to one of her female friends, the thus elegantly expreffes the tender and affectionate wishes of Friendhip:

May angels guard thee with diftinguish'd care,
And every bleffing be my Cynthia's fhare!
Thro' flow'ry paths fecurely may she tread,
By fortune follow'd, and by virtue led;
While health and eafe, in every look exprefs
The glow of beauty, and the calm of peace.
Let one bright fun-fhine form life's vernal day
And clear and smiling be it's evening ray.
Late may the feel the fofteft blast of death,
As rofes droop beneath a Zephyr's breath.
Thus gently fading, peaceful reft in earth,
'Till the glad fpring of Nature's fecond birth;
Then quit the tranfient winter of the tomb,
To rife and flourish in immortal bloom.

In another Epiftle to the fame Lady, fhe confiders Friend

ship in a more fublime and philosophical fenfe.

But long ere Paphos rofe, or Poet fung,
In heav'nly breafts the facred paffion sprung:
The fame bright flames in raptur'd feraphs glow,
As warm confenting tempers here below:
While one attraction mortal, angel, binds,
Virtue, which forms the unifon of minds:

Friendship

Friendship her foft harmonious touch affords,
And gently ftrikes the fympathetic chords;
Th' agreeing notes in focial measures roll,
And the fweet concert flows from foul to foul.

By this elevated train of thinking, our Poetic Philofopher was naturally led to her beloved Plato. By the magic power of fympathy, his fpirit rifes before her; and, in the raptures of imagination, the thus expreffes herself:

By Heaven's enthufiaftic impulfe taught
What fhining vifions rofe on Plato's Thought!
While by the Mufes' gently winding flood,
His fearching fancy trac'd the fovereign Good ¡
The laurell'd Sifters touch'd the vocal lyre,
And Wifdom's Goddess led the tuneful choir.
Beneath the genial Platane's spreading fhade,
How fweet the philofophic Mufic play'd!
Thro' all the grove, along the flowery fhore,
The charming founds refponfive echoes bore.
Here, from the cares of vulgar life refin'd,
Immortal pleasures open'd on his mind:
In gay fucceflion to his ravifh'd eyes
The animating powers of Beauty rife:
On every object round, above, below,
Quick to the fight her vivid colours glow:
Yet, not to matter's fhadory forms confin'd,
The FAIR and GOOD he fought remain'd behind;
'Till gradual rifing thro' the boundless whole,
He view'd the blooming graces of the foul;
Where, to the beam of intellectual day,
The genuine charms of moral Beauty play:
With pleafing force the strong attractions move
Each finer fenfe, and tune it into Love.

How admirably chafte and fimple is the ftyle of the above Verfes, even while the imagination is tranfported to extasy!

The fweet defcriptive Mufe which delights in the profufion of rural imagery, and tunes her harmonious lays to the beautiful works of Nature, the pleafing Erato, is not lefs kind to the Kentish Poetefs than the fublime Urania. In her Verfes addreffed to Bethia, the fame Lady, if we miftake not, whose Ode is prefixed to her Tranflation of Epictetus, we have the following beautifully defcriptive lines.

Ilyfus, a River near Athens, dedicated to the Mufes. On the banks of this river, under a platane, Plato lays the fcene of fome of his Dialogues on Love and Beauty.