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1 'No sailor came; the months in terror fled!
'At the lone cottage Lucy lives, and still
* Throughout the lanes, she glides at evening's close.
Then sits and gazes but with viewless look,
As gilds the Moon the rimpling (if the brook;
Then sings her vespers, but in voice so low, .
She hears their murmurs as the waters flow;
And she too murmurs and begins to Rnd
The solemn wanderings of a wounded mind;
Visions of terror, views of woe succeed,
The mind's impatience, to the body's need;
By turns,to that, by turns to this a prey.
She knows what reason yields and dreads what madness may/
We insert the whole story of Richard Monday, which we consider as excellent in all its parts and of which the catastrophe in particular will be allowed to shew an intimate knowlege of human nature:
* To name an infant, met our village-sires,
And speakers many, urg'd the long debate,—
Back to their homes, the prudent Vestry went, >
. Patient Patient in all controul, in all abuse,
tie found contempt and kicking have their use:
Sad, silent, supple; bending to the blow,
A slave of slaves, the lowest of the low;
His pliant soul gave way to all things base,
He knew no shame, he dreaded no disgrace;
It seem'd so well his passions he supprest,
No feeling stirr'd his ever-torpid breast;
Him, might the meanest pauper bruise and cheat,
He was a foot-stool for the beggar's feet;
His were the legs that ran at all commands;
They us'd, on all occasions, Richard's hands;
His very soul was not his own; he stole
As others orderM, and without a dole 5
In all disputes, on either part he lied,
And ftecly pledg'd his oath on either side;
In all rebellions, Richard join'd the rest,
In all detections, Richard first confest;.
Yet though disgrae'd, he watch'd his time so well.
He rose in favour, when in fame he fell;
Base was his usage, vile his whole employ,
And all despis'd and fed the pliant boy:
At length, 'tis time he should abroad be sent,"
Was whisper'd near him,—and abroad he went;
One morn they call'd him, Richard answer'd not,
They doom'd him hanging, and in time forgot,—
Yet miss'd him long, as each throughout the clan
Found he "had better spar'd a better man."
* Now Richard's talents for the world were fit,
.Steel through opposing plate9 the magnet draws,
* Long lost to us, at tast our man we trace.
And bought the blessings of the blind and dumb;
Bequeath'd to missions, money from the stockj,
And Bibles issu'd from his private box;
But to his native place, severely just,
He left a pittance bound ia rigid trust; .
Two paltry pounds on every quarter's-day» . •
(At church produc'd) for forty loaves should pay;
We must not with-hold the masterly delineation of the village atheist, whose untutored children close the list of the baptized:
» Last In my List, five untaught Lads appear}
'These Maxims,—part th' Attorney's Clerk profess'd,
• But he, triumphant Spirit ! all things dar'd,
4 What Age and Sickness for a Man so bold,
The description of Phcebe Dawson, in her days of youth and prosperity, is beautiful and animated: her altered state, after an unhappy marriage, is equally affecting: but we have too much description and too little story, and we must bring
our our extracts to ah end, with a strong conviction that few readers of the specimens here selected will rest satisfied without becoming acquainted with the entire poem.
The verses in p. 209 are intitled to very high praise. • The motto*, although it gave occasion to them, does not altogether express the sense of the writer; who meant to observe that some of our best acquisitions, and some of our nobler conquests, are rendered ineffectual by the passing away of opportunities, and the changes made by time; an argument that such acquirements and moral habits are reserved for a state of being, in which they may have uses here denied them.' (Pref. xxii.) We think that the same train of ideas likewise naturally suggests another moral respecting our conduct in society : but indeed it abounds with lessons the most awful and impressive, to every mind that is capable of serious reflection:
'When all the fiercer Passions cease» «
(The Glory and Disgrace of Youth,)
Can listen to the Voice of Truth;
And how to spare, to spend, to give;
'Tis then we rightly learn to live.
* Its Weakness when the Body feels,
Nor Danger in Contempt defies;
When on Experience Hope relies;
Nor rashly on our-Follies spend.
With sober Aim to serious End:
And bids us Wrath and Wrong forgave J"
* Yet thus when we our Way discern,
And can upon our Care depend,
Behold! we're near our Journey's End.
• " §>uid juvat trrores, mersa jam puppe, fatcri?
In the first line, crrore is unaccountably printed for errorts; and fuppi stands for puppe, three times in the volume. Authors are not. aware how much their works are disfigured by mistakes of this nature.
Rbv. June, 1808. N We've We've trod the Maze of Error round,
Lung wand'ring in the winding Glade}
It only shews us where we stray'd:
When we no more our Way can choose?
They iii their Pride, the Boon refuw.
'By long Experience taught, we now
Can rightly judge of Friends and Foes,
And all their Faul's discern in those;
We can the warmest Friei.d reprove.
And I'fj- to prai-t the fiercest Foe:
'Now 'tis our Boast that we can quell
The wildest Passions m their Rage;
And their impetuous Wrath assuage:
This bold rebellious Race are fled;
Art warring with the mighty Dead?
And strong Desire and fierce Disdain,
Lo! Time's resistless Strokes have slain.'
The conclusion is scarcely equal to this forcible and striking exordium.
/ « The Birth of Flattery' is nearly as good as most of the 'allegories which have been composed since the days of Spenser.—* Sir Eustace Grey,' and « the Hall of Justice/ are very tragical stories, related with all the force and simplicity of the ballad style, while they are quite free from the insipid affectation by which that style has been too frequently disgraced in the hands of its modern imitators.—In order to leave his readers with an agreeable impression, Mr. C. has closed his volume with the sweetest of all subjects, * Woman V in a paraphrase on the African traveller Ledyard's celebrated eulogy, including an allusion to the negro-woman's song recorded by Mungo Park. The turn given to it in the following verses is ingenious and pleasing: