Imatges de pàgina

Mr. Byron happy, merely because his interest might be fomewhat injured by it, or that he might displease his uncle, who did not, at that time, entertain the most favourable fentiinerits of the lady , and her earnestly counselling him to marry another woman, to promote the satisfaction of her rival's family, and because she had a greater fortune than herself, is not, we think, considering the ardour of her passion, in nature. Mr. Byron's determination with regard to his firft marriage, without coming to any explanation with Miss Greville upon her fuppofed attachment to apother, is precipitate and unjuft ; and the inpropriety of it is farther heightened by his never after mentioning it to her. Upon the whole, however, this production may find admirers among those who are fond of the labyrinths of romantic love, displayed in pleasing language.

12. The Entertaining Medley : being a ColleElion of Genuine Anac

dotes, Delightful Stories, Frolicks of Wit and Humour, with other notable Displays of the Force of the Human Genius, 12 mo. Pr. 34. Robinson and Roberts,

The Spectator recommends the reading a good printed fermon from the pulpit, rather than an indifferent discourse, tho an original, by the preacher himself. This compilation of anecdotes, &c. is taken from the Magazines, the Biographia Galfica, and other collections ; and is preferable to many modern compositions, which are ftuffed with dulnefs and immorality,


13. Tunbridge Epifles, from Lady Margaret to the Countess of B**. 410.

Pr. Is. 6d. Cadell. This performance is a tolerable imitation of the Bath Guide: yet, like the generality of imitations, inferior to the original. It contains lefs variety, fewer incidents, characters, and descriptions, and is therefore less entertaining. But it is written in the same easy, and familiar stile, with the fame spirit of gaiety and humour.

6 E P I S T L E I.
« You beg one to write, tho' I folemnly vow,
I wou'd if I cou'd, but I cannot tell how ;
The more I reflect, I'm the inore at a stand,
And my pen it drops uselessly out of my hand;
But since I'm persuaded how well you're inclind,
And will all have the goodness to take what you find,
I'm picking and chnsing, the best I can get,
From the short and the long of our daily. Gazette.

My lady Bel Careful is fill'd with surmises,
- To hear Mrs. Restless has left the Devizes.
For if it falls out, as it possibly may,
That she kicks up her heels before councellor Jay,
She leaves her freehold in default of male heirs,
To a distant relation of alderman Square's.

· Tis whisper'd about, that it must be agreed
That my lady Dejointure will part with her weed;
Though as for the Dean (I forbear to say who)
He has so much to say, and so little to do,
That a body can venture without conjuration
To say that he'll not be her nearest relation:
The Lieutenant Colonel has manag'd his part ;
But who can reproach a young dowager's heart?
Whose grief was so great, she did nothing but pray,
My lord has been dead--a week, all but a day.

. In all our endeavours to people the land,
Since Hymen has justly the principal hand,
Miss Biddy Decoy, in the wane of her life,
Consenteth to suffer the name of a wife.
The bridegroom and bride were at church t'other morning,
(You may rest well assurd all the parish had warning)
In his hand he conducted the maidenly dame,
Confus'd from a nice apprehension of shame;
Her eye was half-clos'd as she stream'd up the ille,
And the purs'd up her mouth in the form of a smile,
In which, tho' I'm re'lly no friend to disguise,
I'must freely confess that I think she was wise,
Left haply the loss of ten teeth of a fide,
Might have help'd to decypher the age of the bride.

This grand celebration has caus'd a fracas 1 As fome are dispos'd to interpret the law,

Who envying poor Bridget her bonny young fwain,
Have ventur’d to breathe the poetical vein.



The rofy morn with chearful ray,
Has brought the long expected day,

For which so oft I've pray'd.
Away, ye envious prudes, away!
Forbear to see me blush, to say

I wou'd not die' a maid.


cease and scandal hush!
Nor dare provoke the Bride to blush,

In telling what she pray'd for :
For when a rich old virgin can
Procure a handsome poor young inan,

What shou'd she die a maid for?' In Mr. Pope's miscellaneous works there is an inimitable piece of mellifluous nonsense, beginning with these lines

• Fluttring spread thy purple pinions,

Gentle Cupid o'er my heart.'called, a song, written by a person of quality. The second Epistie in this collection contains a soliloquy by Mr. De Gay, which is a composition of the same species, and may be considered as an attempt to ridicule the fonnets, and elegies, and all the frivolous effusions of poets in love.

In the subsequent epistles lady Margaret acquaints her correspondent with what we are to suppose were the common occurrences and the general topics of conversation at Tunbridge Wells.

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14. Poetical Epifles, to the Author of the New Bath Guide; from a Genteel Family in fhire. 410. Pr. 15. 6d. Dodfley.

This writer has imitated the versification of the New Bath Guide, and is no despicable poet. But he gives his readers no variety ; he seldom attempts a humorous, description ; he scarcely relates one ludicrous adventure ; in short, he fills his Epistles with compliments on the ingenuity of the Bath Guide, without endeavouring to imitate the most essential part of Mr. Ay's performance.

15. The Poet's Wardrobe : or, Livery of the Muses: A Poem. Writ

Hudibrastic Verse. And addressed (by Way of Letter) to a particular Friend. Svo. - Pr. 6d. Henley.

Poets in these days may well complain, that the livery of the muses is poor and shabby. The generality of their productions are miserable. A hat, a wig, pair of breeches are much more valuable articles than a modern poem. therefore not in the least surprised to hear this unfortunate bard thus lamenting the meanness of his garb :

· A hat I have—but wond'rous shabby,
Corners fring’d out, and fides grown scabby.

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My wig, that might with most compare,
Now scarcely boasts one crooked hair.
Without abuse, or using tongue ill,
"Tis fit, in short, for nought but dunghill;
Or to be hung in field of grain,
To fright away the pilfering train.-
My only coat, once Saxon blue,
Camelion like, has chang'd its hue ;
And wanting taylor to repair rent,
Is grown at arm pits, quite transparent ;
Malicious time's destructive fell blows

Have likewise thresh'd it out at elbows.' &c. This performance is not deftitute of humour ; but it is too short and insignificant to deserve any particular recommendation.

16. Poems on various Subjects. Viz. The Nunnery, T Magda.

lens, The Nun, Fugitive Pieces. 8vo. Pr. 25. Robson.

This collection contains seventeen little pieces, some of which have been printed before. The Elegy written among the Ruins of an Abbey, the Epistle from Yarico to Inkle, and Il Latte an elegy lately published by the same author, are not included in this number. We have already reviewed the Nunnery, the Magdalens, and the Nun; the rest are written in the fame easy, elegant, and agreeable file. The author is Mr. Jerningham.

" To yon dark grove Alisia flew,

Just at th' appointed hour;
To meet the youth whose bosom true;

Confess'd her beauty's pow'r.
All that fair beauty cou'd bestow,

Or fairer virtue give,
Did on his face unrival'd glow,

And in his bosom live.
But not the charm of beauty's flow'r,

Or virtue's fairer charm ;
Cou'd in her father's soul the pow'r

Of Avarice disarm.
He bad the youth his mansion fly,

And scorn'd his ardent vow:
And when the tears flow'd from his eye,
He bad them fafter flow.



Alifia with a bleeding mind,

Beheld the injur'd youth:
And vow'd, in holy wedlock join'd,

To crown at length his truth.
As she forfook her native seat,
• Farewell ye

fields so fair,
May bleflings still my Father moet !

She faid-and dropt a tear.
Th' oppression of a parent's hand,

A parent dead to shame :
In her meek breast by virtue fan'd,

Ne'er quench'd the filial flame.
Now safe the reach'd th' appointed ground,

Tho' love was all her guide ;
But absent when the youth she found,

She look'd around and figh’d.
Each breeze that rustled o'er the tree,

Sooth'd for a space her smart;
She fondly cried Oh that is he!

While patted fast her heart.
The pleasing images of hope,

Night's terrors now deform:
While on her mind drear sceneries ope,

And raise the mental storin.
On some rude stone fhe bow'd her head,

All helpless and forlorn ;
Now starting from her rugged bed,

She wifh'd the ling'ring morn.
With heavy heart I now unfold,

What th' absent youth befell;
Who fierce beset by ruffians bold,

Oppress'd with numbers fell :
At length the morn disclos'd its rays

And calm'd Alifia's fear;
She restless took her various way,

(Distracted) here and there.
Thus as the wander'd, wretched maid,

To mis’ry doom'd! she found A naked corse along the shade,

And gath'd with many a wound.


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