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fome places Mr. Bute has wrote in a more spirited manner, and consequently succeeded better ; and we would recommend to him in any future composition, not to be so poetical in his prose, and to be less profaic in his verse.
Abelard to Eloisa : an Epille. With a new Account of their Lives;
and References to their Original Correspondence. Small 8vo. 63. Dilly.
poetical collection, of which we gave some account, vol. Ivii. p. 5. It is now altered and confiderably enlarged. We then took notice that the author, confidered as an imitator, not a rival, of Pope, appeared in a respeciable light ;' and we obferve, with pleafure, that the present poem approaches still nearer to that author's in grace and harmony. As our first opinion was given without any quotation to establih its justice, we shall submit the following in vindication of our sentiments. The first lines allude to the abbey of St. Gildas, in Britanny, from whence Abelard's epistles are said to be written. The concluding ones, which describe his former affection as rekindled at the name of Eloisa, mixed with the enthufiaftic sentiments his fituation would most naturally be supposed to produce, are truly beautiful.
Mistaking man! who thinks in shades to find
The charms that lull the long-impaífion'd mind;
Or dreams the cloister'd cell alone secure
From common woes that all his race endure.
• Ye naked hills, unbless'd by nature's care !
Ye vales, unconscious of the labouring share,
Stretch'd many a league, whence issuing to the day
The shaggy tenant seeks a distant prey !
Unfightly cliffs, within whole cavern'd fides
Her talon'd young the screaming vulture hides!
Ye feas, that round yon rocky-cinctur'd tower
With sleepless fury vex the midnight hour!
In your despite an absent world retains
Her joyless Naves in fublunary chains,
Or gross debauch, and fullen noth combiné,
To check remorse, and quench the ray divine.
For as the maniac, in his fordid cell,
Will oft on fancy'd thrones and sceptres dweld;
So these sad exiles from the social kind
As falsely rate the toys they left behind.
• In vain remonftrance lends her feeble aid,
They scorn the doctrine, and the guide upbraid.
“ und dare that hand affume the pastor's rod?
Behold the frontless delegate of God!
In other climes thy forward zeal be showr.,
And preach where Abelard is yet unknown ;
Or banilh'd hence to Paraclete remove,
Where maids may melt, and heretics approve."
While keener some the venom'd shaft inflame,
And point reproach with Eloisa's name.
• Wild at the found to folitude 1 fly,
And meet the form familiar to my eye:-
She comes refulgent in her former charms !
The spouse of heaven is render'd to my arms!
Her voice I hear, on Abelard she calls,
And waves to Paraclete's neglected walls.
Yet, О forbeár! those fatal fmiles conceal,
And not the woman, but the saint reveal ;
The clasping hands, the fcatter'd locks, display,
And streaming tears by angels wip'd away;
The head that bows to mercy's awful shrine,
The glance that melts with charity divine.
The gratefal barft of penitence forgiven,
And aspect radiant with the beams of heaven!
Nor this alone superior duties claim
Heaven's awful spouse, a mother's sacred name.
Shall earthly parents with preventive fear
Bend o'er the babe that carnal ties endear,
And the alone selected from the rest
To soothe, with pious hopes the finner's breast,
Neglect the talk by Providence affign'd,
And leave the children of her soul behind ?
Ev'n now, methinks, thy vestal-charge I fee,
Dissolv'd in kindred transports caught from chee,
With clearer anthems hail the Saviour's throne,
for grace with ardours not their own.
That where secluded nature loves to pour
The limpid wave beside the myrtle bower
The rifing walls of Paraclete may show
That heavenly comfort deigns to dwell below;
And oft while Hesper leads the starry throng
Æthereal harps the clofing strain prolong.
. From scenes like thofe when Éloifa's foul
Aspires in holy trance beyond the pole,
When every mortal care is lull'd to rest,
And heaven-plum'd' hope expatiates with the blett,
Say, wilt thou fhut for ever from thy fight
Whose presence might alloy the pure delight;
Nor lift on hallow'd figh, one friendly prayer,
One tender wish to meet thy lover there?
• And fure when hope with infant hold prepar'd
To stay the morn of bliss we fondly far'd,
Even reason's felf could scarcely find to blame,
So guiltless seem!d the involuntary flame.
Ingenuous arts the tempting hour beguilid,
Consenting taste, indulgent fancy smild
Vol. LX. July, 1785.
Severer science join'd the blooming train,
And virtue paus'd at love's enchanting strain.
• Alas! that letter'd ease, by heaven design'd
The purest inmate of the feeling mind,
The faireft gift that nature can befow,
Should prompt the breast with guilty fires to glow!
Untouch'd, unsway'd by fortune's base controul,
I prais'd not empty form without a soul;
Fair as thou wert, with more than beauty bright
Thy mental charms diffus'd a stronger light..
And well thou know'ft when absent and alone
In gentle verse I made my wishes known,
Content to please, not emulous to shine
The careless numbers flow'd from rapture's fhrine,
Nor once descended to the flatterer's part,
Anxious to gain but not corrupt the heart.
Yet haply those, condemn’d to lasting fame,
In future times shall fan the dangerous flame;
To fure destruction's filken snares engage
The destin'd victims of a distant age ;
With cruel mirth the scorner's tale prolong,
And lend new licence to the drunkard's song.
«O treacherous moment, short, and insecure !
O reign of bliss, too powerful to endure !
When first we felt from infant years untry'd
Thro' every nerve the itings of transport glide
No more with melting sounds divinely clear
'Those roseate lips must charm thy lover's ear-
That open front of animated snow,
Those auburn ringlets taught by love to flow,
The graceful act, in native virtue free,
Despoil'd in youth's unguarded hour by me-
The upbraiding blush- the kind relenting eye
That fummond nature to returning joy-
The faith which proffer'd crowns had vainly try'd,
And scarce can heaven with Abelard divide,
For ever loft-nor can the world restore
Those flattering scenes that hope shall gild no more.'
PO E T R Y. An Invocation to Melancholy. A Fragment. 4to. HE subject of this performance is capable of high poeticat
imbellishments, and the author has sometimes succeeded in their delineation. Like Hotspur, he apprehends a world of figures,' but they are not in general properly methodised, nor
accurately expressed. It is probably the production of a young writer; who appear's not defective in genius, but we cannot compliment him on his judgment. The War of Wigs, a Poem, occafoned by a late Event in West
minster-Hall. 4to. Is. 6d. Kearney. This poem relates the events of a battle, raised without an object, and determined without either victory or defeat, A late commotion in Westminster-hall, from a casual terror, seems to have suggested this wordy war, where ferjeants and barrifters contend, with little dignity and less address. Yet the battle gives occasion to the poet to describe the different personages, in smooth and poetic, often in pointed and well-appropriated language :--this perhaps is all that we should expect; for, as Mr. Bayes observes, a plot is of little use but to bring in good things. We shall select the concluding lines as a specimen,
• As o'er the troubled deep when tempests rise,
And tofs the deafening billows to the skies,
Old Ocean's monarch, while the tumult raves,
Lifts his calm head, and chides his angry waves ;
Sudden the clamor of the deep subfides,
As Neptune ftills the hoarse resounding tides:
Thus rag'd the war, and thus the battle bled,
When M-sd rais'd his venerable.head,
And hush'd the storm. M--s---d, in whom appears
New force of genius in decline of years :
Whom Law and Learning's various arts attend,
Aftræa's favorite; and Apollo's friend.
O bleft with all that greatness can renown,
The classic laurel, and the civic crown!
Whose sacred honors ev'n in death shall bloom,
And future ages bless the sweet perfume.'
An Epifle from the Rer. William M-nto the Right Hon. Wil.
liam Pitt, Chancellor of the Exchequer ; petitioning for the vas cant Laureateship. 4to. 6d. Dilly.
The report, whether true or false, that Mr. Mlately a candidate for the laureateship, has given rise to this piece of ridicule; the author of which likewise has proved so far unsuccessful as greatly to fail in the imitation of that ingenious gentleman's style and manner. An Epifle from John Lord Ashburton, in the Shades, to the Right
Hon. William Pitt in the Sunshine. 4to. 25. Murray. A political, doggrel, un poetic production ; in which the au. thor, to supply the want of wit, has been profuse of scurrility. The Stone Coffin ; or, a New Way of making Love. 4to.
Cattermoul. The subject of this author's poetry seems to have a sympa- . thetic connection with his genius ; for we never read any thing that deserves more to be buried in oblivion. F2
Poetical Trifles. By Edward Trap Pilgrim, Efa. Small 8vo.
15. 6d. Debrett. These Tribes are rather calculated to amuse in a new spaper, than for a foundation on which the author's fame may securely rest. Some of them are light, easy, and pleasing; others trifling and infipid.-Those who write on temporary subjects muft necessarily confine their praise to the uncertain period of the follies which they celebrate or satirise. Memoirs of Sir Simeon Supple, Member for Rotborough. 8vo. 15. 6d.
Kearsley. The author has acted injudiciously, by reminding us of the inimitable and unimitated New Bath Guide. These Memoirs, resemble it ; but must be arranged at a great distance from the work of Mr. Anstey : they possess few traits of humour, little knowlege of human nature, and faint sparks only of poetic fire. The two following stanzas, part of the remonItrance of a condemned oak, are the most highly finished lines.
• Hold ruthless peasant! hold thy lifted arm,
Nor let thy stroke my bleeding rind divide ;
Ah ! let my hoary age thy pity warm !
Nor dare to pierce my venerable fide.
Thy axe has echoed through the fertile meads,
The distant vallies spread wild havock o'er ;
And shorn the mountains of their fringed heads
From yon tall mansion to the winding shore.' Of the other parts, the minister's speech at the levee is by far the best ; and we shall extract a few lines of it as a specimen.
“Sir Simeon Supple, I'll always contend,
For the honour to call you my intimate friend.
Dear fir, you're a pillar of rock to our party ;
I hope you left all at the Grove well and hearty.
For your welfare, believe me, my wishes are fervent,
And never can change-colonel Cutter, your servant !
This vifit is kind ! my dear colonel your hand;
I'm heartily sorry that vacant command-
'Tis ftrange, very ftrange, that the **** Mould refuse !
But we soon shall cut out a new gap in the blues,
Which none but yourself, my dear colonel, fall fill,
If my voice can prevail. How d’ye do mister Quill?
Dear fir, your last pamphlet was poignantly quaint;
I hope you've got rid of your stomach coin plaint.
I believe we fall want a short essay next week
On the fall of the stocks - dear fir Peregrine Sleek!
I proteft that I did not discern you before,
And when, my dear friend, do you make the grand tour?
I'm glad to meet here my lord viscount Mac Vane-
Your very obedient, fir Carpenter Plane !