altogether devoid of entertainment or of ufe. If among the middling and bufy ranks of mankind it can afford an encouragement to the induftry of thofe who are beginning to climb into life, or furnish a leffon of moderation to thofe who have attained its height; if to the first it may recommend honeft induftry and fober diligence; if to the latter it may fuggeft the ties of ancient fellowship and early connection, which the pride of wealth or of ftation lofes as much dignity as it foregoes fatisfaction by refufing to acknowledge; if it fhall cheer one hour of defpondency or difcontent to the young; if it fhall fave one frown of difdain or of refufal to the unfortunate; the higher and more refined clafs of my readers will forgive the familiarity of the example, and confider, that it is not from the biography of heroes or of itatesmen that inftances can be drawn to prompt the conduct of the bulk of mankind, or to excite the ufeful though lefs fplendid virtues of private and domeftic life.'

The foregoing portrait exhibits a very juft refemblance of a moft worthy man, whofe agreeable manners, and whofe many virtues, we recollect with that penfive kind of feeling, that melancholy pleasure, which he has himself fo well defcribed, in the Mirror, above referred to.

Before this work was fuffered to pafs the Tweed, fome pains should have been taken to render it perfectly free from Scotticifms. The number, however, of thofe that we have obferved, is inconfiderable.

E. ART. IX. The Final Farewell, a Poem, written on retiring from London. 4to. 2s. 6d. fewed. Debrett. 1787.

WE

E have read this poem with pleasure. It abounds with just fentiments, expreffed in eafy verfe, and is enlivened with ftrokes of delicate fatire. Our poetical readers will not reft fatisfied with perufing the following thort extraðs: Not like MISANTHROPOS I quit the Town,

Hating mankind, and loving felf alone:

Good Heaven knows, and all my friends can tell,
I love fociety, perhaps too well;

I love fociety;-but it must be

From affectation and from folly free:

Men that will speak the language of the heart,

Nor wound decorum with licentious dart;

Women with fenfe enough and charms to please,
Whose native pride is loft in native ease.

Sweet fuch fociety;-and doubly blefs'd are those
Who from the weedy world can pluck fo rich a rofe!'

To the dupes of fashion he fays:

'Tis meet I bow, and bid adieu to thofe

Whom Taylors ufe as fhow-fhops for their clothes;
Fofter'd by Fashion as her weather-cocks,

And priz'd by Barbers, as commodious blocks,
Minions of mode !-and scholars of the school

Where nought is done but what is done by rule;

Cc 3

Pupils

Pupils of him, whofe fcience is grimace,
To cramp the heart, and modify the face.
Ye.fcented butterflies, with fickle wings!
Ye buzzing infects, with your harmless ftings!
Ye wreaths of fashion, fpun in Folly's looms,
The moving furniture of drawing-rooms!
O, long and fplendidly may you command
The realms of fashion and of" fangle-land!"
Long be your reign!-and ftrong be your defence
Against that rude hobgoblin, Common-fenfe!
Shrink not from him, nor from his boasted might,
Knowledge with Reafon arming for the fight;
Bufy Experience, bringing to the field
Grey-bearded talkers, that muft quickly yield;
Slow-paced Reflection, prying all around,
While prattling Argument defcribes the ground.
But vain are these, and vain their weak alarms;
'Gainft them you bring a mighty hoft in arms!
The giant Affectation leads the van,

His fhield a mask, and his broad fword a fan;
Then pompous Ignorance takes the field in hafte ;
Fancy mifled, and vitiated Taste;

Mock complaifance, whofe difcipline's his pride,
Formally ftalks, with Error by his fide;
While, led by Vanity, fee millions run,
Lur'd by her colours, waving in the fun!

combin'd,

"Twere madness to oppofe fuch powers
And you fhall reign fupreme o'er half mankind: .
You shall drefs out the Fashion of the day,
And teach her what to do, and what to say.
O'er arts and letters and the mimic stage
You fhall prefide, and regulate" the rage."
Nay more, your power shall Nature's laws controul,
Truth fhall be falfe, a part exceed the whole;
Deformity ufurp bright Beauty's place,
And Judgment fhall be banish'd in difgrace.
Planting your flaves in gallery, box, and pit,
By your command fhall CowLEY be a wit,
The Town fhall fay, if you but make the rule,
JEPHSON can't write, and CUMBERLAND's a fool;
O'KEEFE'S no humour, MURPHY has no skill,
INCHBALD'S no wit, and COLMAN can write ill!
COBB's no pleafantry †, PILON's jokes repel,
PHILLIPS can't read, and LACEY cannot spell!
Of ladies too, with equal judgment speak,
And make a countess lovely-for a week.

*Chesterfield.

"O'Keefe's no hu

+ We do not admire these contractions. mour" Cobb's no pleasantry," is clipping the language too violently. If the Author fhould reprint this poem, we hope he will reform thefe faulty lines.- Alfo "tend” for, attend, p. 28.

13

Give

Give you the word: and FAIRFORD has no tafte,
GRANT fhall be tall, and FOLEY shall be chaste ;
Masculine DEVON,-on whose freakish airs
News-paper wits have lived these seven years,—
Masculine DEVON, with a decent face,
Your word fhall mould into a perfect grace!
'To elegance fhall WARWICK have no claim,
Nor. Venus captivate in FRANKLAND's name;
Friendship no more her BEAUFORT's bofom find;
Nor all the virtues grace the royal mind.

'O, ever thus guide you the giddy throng,
And teach them how to be politely wrong!
So fhall the guardian genii of Tafte
In all difafters to your comfort hafte;
Give you to fee th' impending ftorm's approach,
And when to call, and when to keep a coach;
Drive the keen roughnefs from the evening air,
That no rude blast attack your well-drefs'd hair;
In fleep watch o'er you, when your fancy roves,
Left in your dreams you draw your chicken gloves;
'Mongft all mankind still mark you for their own,
The gay automatons of brilliant ton!'

The following lines, be they panegyrical or fatirical, our vanity, or our modefty-let the Reader take it in which light he pleases-obliges us to copy:"

Ye fage REVIEWERS!-ye, whofe monthly toil
Spreads twilight knowledge over all the ifle;
Who, Luna-like, your borrow'd beams bestow
On those that feldom to the fountain go:
Ye fage REVIEWERS!-who with skill condenfe
In narrow limits every author's sense,
Who bring all Europe's learning in a page,
And all the wit of all this witty age;
Who bind huge quartos in a little cell,
Like Homer's Iliad in a walnut-shell;
Who ftrip the goofe-quill hero of renown,
By puffing purchas'd from a tasteless Town:
Ye, who as literary monarchs fit,

Waving your fceptres o'er the realms of wit,
Who fhew each obvious and each latent fault,
Each venial error, and each brilliant thought;
Forbear! forbear! nor your dread wrath dispense
On this my firft, and this my last offence!
Surely, 'tis no fuch mighty heinous crime
To take one's laft farewell in harmless rhime!
Though often prompted by the love I bear
Some names of worth, and one accomplish'd fair,
Yet, unambitious of a wit's renown,

I ne'er difturb'd the ever-patient Town;
Me can no printed pamphlet e'er accuse
Of holding daring commerce with the muse;

To

To charm the mind with verfe I never ftrove,
Save when my half-ftrung lyre was waked by love;
Imperial love, that bids the bofom glow

With tender fighs, will prompt the verfe to flow.
I call'd not, to adorn a claffic fong,
Unheard of forrow, and fictitious wrong;
Nor have I, twisting Hudibraftic wire

With the bold ftrings of PINDAR's founding lyre,
Like PETER, whom a random mufe attends,
With mirth convuls'd my laughter-loving friends.
Nor is this all: I never did expofe.

The ramblings of my mind in humble profe;
No tempting LETTER-BOX by me was fed
With libels on the living or the dead:
Diurnal prints I wifely let alone,

O'erwhelm'd with vapid nonfenfe of their own;
Nor did I ever paint lafcivious fcenes,
Or lying Tete-à-Tete for magazines;
To please the vicious, or amufe the vain,
No luscious novel iffued from my brain:
Scorning that ftrongest band of Virtue's foes,
I ne'er deftroy'd her innocent repose.
Thus having pafs'd my inoffenfive days,
Deaf to the lure of literary praise;
If now I trespass, mitigate the crime,
By ftill remembering-'tis the only time;
Nor let me find myself for this ADIEU,

Hung, drawn, and quarter'd in the next REVIEW !'

Yes, gentle bard, thou shalt be fpared! not for thy prayer, but for thy worth; and in the hope that thou haft not bade the world a 'Final Farewell.'

ART. X. Poems by James Fordyce, D.D. 12mo.

TH

Cadell. 1787.

3 s. Boards.

HE arts of Oratory and Poetry are fo nearly allied, that it is not furprifing that those who have been fuccefsful in the former, fhould fometimes have attempted the latter: yet each has fo many requifites peculiar to itfelf, that actual excellence in either, is no certain proof of a capacity of excelling in the other. Cicero, the firft of Roman orators, was, every one knows, a wretched poet."

The refpectable Author of the poems now before us, to whose pulpit-eloquence we have often paid the tribute of unfeigned refpect, will, therefore, pardon us, if we find ourselves incapable of allowing him equal merit in his new character. Good fenfe, warm feelings, and flowing language, we every where discover in these pieces; but cannot, we confefs, perceive that boldness of conception, and that elevation and ftrength of diction, which characterize the true poet. The turn of expreffion is often pro

faic; the melody of the verfe is not equally preferved; and the rhimes are often exceedingly faulty. Within the compass of a fingle page, we find the following rhimes; too, crew; fcoff, laugh; caufe, fars; chace, excess.

That thefe poems are not, however, deftitute of merit, our Readers will perceive from the following fpecimens:

VIRTUE and ORNAMENT.

An Ode. To the Ladies.

The Diamond's and the Ruby's rays
Shine with a milder, finer flame,
And more attract our love and praise
Than Beauty's felf if loft to Fame.
But the sweet tear in Pity's eye.

Tranfcends the Diamond's brightest beams;
And the foft blush of Modesty

More precious than the Ruby feems.
The glowing Gem, the. fparkling Stone,
May ftrike the fight with quick farprise;
But Truth and Innocence alone

Can ftill engage the good and wife.
No glitt'ring Ornament or Show
Will aught avail in grief or pain:
Only from inward Worth can flow
Delight that ever shall remain.
Behold, ye Fair, your lovely Queen!
'Tis not her Jewels, but her Mind;
A meeker, purer, ne'er was feen;
It is her. Virtue charms mankind!"

The BLACK EAGLE. A Song *.

I.

Hark! yonder Eagle lonely wails:
His faithful bofom grief affails.

Laft night I heard him in my dream,
When death and woe were all the theme,
Like that poor Bird I make my moan:
I grieve for dearest DELIA gone.
With him to gloomy rocks I fly:
He mourns for love, and fo do I.

II.

'Twas mighty love that tam'd his breaft;
'Tis tender grief that breaks his rest.
He drops his wings, he hangs his head,
Since the he fondly lov'd was dead.
With DELIA's breath my joy expir'd:
'Twas DELIA's fmiles my fancy fir'd.
Like that poor Bird, I pine, and prove
Nought can fupply the place of Love,

*Intended for a pathetic Air of that name, in Ofwald's Collection

of Scotch Tunes.

III. Dark