no inventive talents-no powers to execute-have perceptions sensitive and quick, to enjoy the productions of others, and a discernment nice and discriminating in comparing those productions with that prototype of which they are copies that common prototype, the volume of universal nature,

In what Taste consists, or rather, on what it depends, may not, perhaps, be easy of definition; as on this point there has been a diversity of opinion-I had almost said from Longinus to Alison; though indeed neither Longinus, nor Quintilian, nor any one of the critics of antiquity, ever entered into the abstract question.

Modern writers seem to concur in their acceptation of Taste, as not a simple but a compound idea: and it may, I think, be concisely defined, as consisting of sensibility and judgment. According to Burke, "it is "made up of a perception of the primary pleasures of "sense, of the secondary pleasures of the imagination, "and of the conclusions of the reasoning faculty con"cerning the various relations of these, and concerning "the human passions, manners, and actions."

In considering "THE PLEASURES of Taste," I should first look to its field of action-the Sublime and the Beautiful of Nature and of Art.

"

Secondly, I should describe its energies in the mind of its possessor.

And, thirdly, I should descend to its exemplification in peculiar scenery, or view it as illustrated in sensible

creations.

I possess a Poem in MS. formed on this plan, in three parts-the subjects of which are thus distinctly treated. It is a mere sketch. But its author would not be averse from a partial communication of it to the present audience: nor would he be displeased at any criticisms on particular passages, provided that they are not anonymous.

As a specimen, I shall beg your candid attention to the more descriptive places.

THE

PLEASURES OF TASTE.

FIRST PART.

AT the opening of the first part, we are presented

with a sketch of the first created man, as he is affected, through the medium of the senses, by external objects. It is asserted, that all have taste, in a certain degree. ↑ But, involved in a variety of meaner cares, most men have little leisure for contemplation; and acting from mercenary motives, become indifferent to what in more ingenuous minds excite the purest pleasure.

If they are attracted at all to nature or its imitations; the sublime, not the beautiful-the wild-the wonderful-occasions strong and transitory, rather than delightful emotions. The more sublime scenery in nature is then described-and next, the beautiful; and, (in descending to an analysis of the landscape) colour and sound-simple and in assemblage. In the transition from nature to art, bowers and grottoes arise, and expand into temples and pyramids: And from the rude stupendous monument, we pass to the productions of more cultivated taste, in architecture, sculpture and

painting; and from picture, to poetry and music. The pleasure we derive from these exhibitions, depends, in a great measure, on association or reflexion. After an observation or two on unity of expression, this first part concludes with an invocation to the Genius of Taste. A few selections may not, perhaps, be unacceptable.

"Say, dawning into life, through depths of night,
When nature rose, to meet the fount of light,
When" the great sun" commenc'd his stately march,
And splendors stream'd o'er all the ethereal arch,
When infant spring in vivid verdure glow'd,
And, in the expanse of azure, ocean flow'd ;-
Say, as first kindling on the dazzled eye,
Open'd the fruitful earth, the seas, the sky ;-
How, in a thrilling maze of transport, ran,

The sense of pleasure thro the soul of man ?
While all creation shone, disclos'd to sight,
Tell how primordial beauty breath'd delight!

His mystic self, amidst the vast unknown,

And all he saw around him, seem'd as one!

And hark! what sounds from wave on wave impell'd, Far off and wide, wl:at rising murinurs swell'd? Hark-'twas the dashing of the distant spray That roll'd in liquid lapse, and died away.

He starts, and listens wondering; till more near
The breeze comes rustling to his cherisht ear.

But midst the palmy shade, the cedarn grove,
From many a warbler floats melodious love.
It seem'd, as if a music, all his own,

Were audible in each spontaneous tone-
From his own pulses, as with pleasure stored,
Elicited, from every living chord.

Nor shrub of spicy bloom, nor odorous flower,
Gives less to rapture the luxurious hour,
Whilst from a new sensation tranc'd, he steals,
Congenial bliss! the spirit of the vales!

Soft o'er his turfy couch the vine-leaves play'd, Danc'd to young airs, and wove their light and shade, On auburn tresses bade a radiance break,

And in cool whispers fann'd his glowing cheek;
While, bending down in dalliance to his reach,
The sugary date, the grape, the mellow peach
Evoked a relish unperceiv'd before,

And into action brought one pleasure more.

Yet, thus to his excited senses sweet,
Tho' nature's self the accordant feelings meet,
Yet, tho' creation's boons be thus enjoy'd,
Is there no craving-no internal void?