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it is not adviseable to break unnecessarily into the analogy of
Critique. So lately as when Pope wrote, this word was
Johnson does not even distinguish these two words by the orthography, but spells both critick; which is surely a fault, confidering that they are now pronounced, as well as accented, differently.
* E láy, fubftantive :
B. Johnson, Epigr. xii.
Johnson says, “ the accent is used on either syllable.” But
• Pérfume, both verb and substantive :
But in the following passage we find the accent of the verb
Now gentle gales
Par. Loft, iv. 158.'
Though we may probably differ from this learned writer in some points which he has discussed in this treatise, yet we freely applaud his performance in general, as calculated to do eminent service to English literature, by exhibiting a greater variety of critical observations on the pronunciation of our language, than we have met with in any former publication.
Eleanora : from the Sorrows of Werter. A Tale, 2 Vols.
Small 8vo. 55. fewed. Robinson. T HERE is no work more captivating than the Sorrows of
Werter. Its warm animated language, the strong expressive feelings of a heart torn with anguish, and of resolution weakened by distress, allures with irresistible power ; with a power which we fear has sometimes led the reader of a congenial foul to a similar fate. On these and many other accounts, it is poison to a mind diseased ; and may contribute with the proud man's contumelies,' or the pangs of defpifed love,' to hurry a despairing wretch to the extreme verge. The volumes before us seem to be designed as an antidote to the poison ; but, like other antidotes, may come too late: they are certainly not dangerous ; and they possess a power of attraction by the same means, and in a degree little inferior, to the Sorrows of Werter.
The story is founded on a short fentence in the latter work: Werter, before his acquaintance with Charlotte, was attached to Julia ; and her sister Leonora fips of the intoxicating draught, under the guise of friendship. Fatal delufion! but though so often fatal, the phantom continues to allure and to betray. The unfortunate Leonora carries the wound in her heart, and it rankles amidst the gaieties of a court, and the splendours of a midnight ball. Werter is-supposed culpable in cherishing this fond delusion ; but he leaves her without an explanation. He retires to the fatal spot, where he sees Charlotte, and finishes his love only with his life. The event is communicated to Leonora, and snaps the thread, already weakened by the continuance of a violent, but hopeless, passion.
This is a short outline of the novel, which is related with much address, and an intimate acquaintance with the human heart. It is an interesting story; and the Episode of Bertha and Conrade, and the little History of Claude and Isabella, are extremely beautiful. We think we perceive a moral, which we wish had been more pointedly insisted on. Men are often faulty in appearing particularly attentive, without designing to become lovers; and on the other hand women are often too credulous. There is an attractive power which frequently hurries us beyond ourselves : it is a momentary delirium, a temporary intoxication, which, though in itself a fault if pussued, in the more serious moments, would lead to a crime more dangerous than the mode of conduct so generally tigmatized as difhonourable. In the situation of Leonora, the attentions of Werter were defensible; and the ought to have reflected, that her passion began before the death of Julia. May this guard some fond female against a too eały belief!
As we can extract the following pleasing allegory, with little violence to the fory, we shall insert it as a specimen.
• How many happy hours have we paffed in this bowerhours never to be recalled — with what winged speed ye flew ! --and now every leaf spoke to my heart.-The difpofition of the boughs, which hung neglected, or only caught up here and there by the tendrils of a vine which had made its way through the lattice—had something fo mournful, fo pathetically touching in their appearance, that I could not withstand the sensations they raised in me.--I was overpowered by the weight of my afflictions--why is it that forrow takes such ftrong hold upon me? Is' calamity to be my guide through life : -I am not naturally of a melancholy turn; there was a time when chearfulness danced before me- -Hope was on my right-hand and Contentment on my left. Igave myself up to their protection--we rushed giddily after our conductress.Through what flowery paths she led us! whatever we saw was worthy of our attention, every trifle amused us. At the altar of Religion we bowed our heads, our hearts hailed her as our superior patroness--we offered gratefully our vows at her thrine. She received our sacrifices, and smiled on us with that benignity which can exalt the human heart to such a pitch of sublimity. My friend, we met with Love; he reduced Chearfulness from us, and he supplied her place ;-at first we scarcely perceived the change ; but we had not wandered long, when the boy grew captious. Hope trembled and turned pale. She faw, and warned me of my danger : Love ftruck at her, and the fled, Contentment vanished. I would have followed, but with artful, with flowery bands he detained me. How soft, how gentle, he was then to me ;-but foon, what a tyrant did he become ! What would I not have given to have broken my fetters !-yet now—that Despair has driven him from my heart- am I more at ease ?Lam convinced we know not what is best for us, and our part is only to submit with resignation to the events which the Most High fhall judge we are capable of supporting.'
· PO E T RY. The Difoanded Subaltern : an Epifle from the Camp at Lenham.
Second Edition. Is. 6d. Flexney.
in volume lvi. page 148. It is now enlarged and improved.
We gave some account of this very pleafing performance
Rational Amusements, being a Colle&tion of Original Miscellanies,
Earle. This is one of those milk and water productions of which little can be said, either good or bad: we meet with nothing strikingly defective, much less particularly beautiful. Being consequently very ill calculated to afford food for criti. cism, we shall dismiss it without farcher notice. The Paphiad; or, Kensington-Gardens. 4to. 15.6d. Harlowe.
The principal design of this poem is to praise the duchess of Devon ihire, to whom it is dedicated. The author first introduces us to the aerial attendants of Venus, who are summoned to appear before their mistress at the Paphian court. The following description of the bower, the goddess, and those at. tendants will, we apprehend, please the reader, notwithstanding the construction of the verbs in some of the concluding lines is not ftrictly grammatical.
• In the sweet shade of Paphos' fragrant wood,
High on a throne, of beaten roses made,
• Beneath a fhade her iv'ry chariot stood;
• The little archer by his mother fat :
of state ; Gay on the vines their golden quivers hung,
Untipt their arrows, and their bows untrung.' Venus informs her court, that since the time when Paris beHowed on her the golden apple, her votaries had considered her in a very improper light, as the tutelary divinity of luft, noc of virtuous love : that, to vindicate her character, and convince
them of the contrary, she was determined to depute a LIVING
• She fhall preside o'er every mortal feene,
Each, to be fair, muit then be virtuous too.'
immortality is not her own.'
• None want a place for each a beauty found ;
For Paphian acts are all a mystery.)'
• Know then, ye sputtering, spiteful, cattish race,
Know-Liberty the lov'd—not Carlo Chan.'