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Hitherto the instances have been few, 1. To establish a Fund, by the voin which it has spoken the truth to luntary contributions of the members, either. This subject is extensive, and at such rate as each individual may it

may be resumed. The literary re think fit. sources of England are of incalculable 2. To appoint a Committee for convariety, opulence, and vigour. The ducting the business of the Society. number and talent of her public wri 3. To adopt a system of Corresponters, admirable as a class, and as such dence with those members who live at fully justifying her claim to a new a distance, and with such Associations Augustan age, may give but a faint im as may be willing to co-operate in propression of the means which she hides moting the same objects. within her bosom for the day of soliciting her treasures. What she now The purpose of the plan is beyond shows, are perhaps but the indications, all praise. It has already succeeded the jutting fragments of silver that are in obtaining a large portion of public to lead the eye to the inexhaustible confidence, and the diffusion of the ore buried in the caverns of the intel- principle may be among the highest lectual Potosi.

hopes of national preservation. For the general purposes of the Association, it has been determined,

POEMS BY THOMAS GENT, ESQ.*

This is a collection of verses, chiefly tone of written wit, and he evades the of the lighter kind, on the various oc grossness that is the besetting sin of casions that stimulate writers who have humorous poetry, with the tact of a other employment in the world than gentleman.” It would be no honour to the discussion of their own objects and inherit the morals or the manners of opinions, under the form of couplets or Peter Pindar's poetry; but its humour stanzas. Mr Gent's brief and neat pre- that natural quaintness, unlabourface tells us something of this, in his ed jest, and unwearied ridicule of the allusion to previous publications. "I affected, the common-place and the cannot omit this opportunity of thank- presuming, has hitherto had no sucing those writers who have honoured cessor, or has found it in the present me by reviewing my verses. I owe them writer. None of the poems before us my warm acknowledgments for mea are in the peculiar measure of that insuring my poems by their pretensions. genious profligate ; but our impression

They have looked at them as they real- is strong that Mr Gent would be se-
ly were—as the amusements of the lei cure of popularity in that career.
sure hours of a man, whose fortune We give our extracts as the book
will not favour his inclination to devote opens.

The
very
first

poem supplies himself to poetry; and, conceiving a an instance of the sly and easy satire favourable opinion of them in that of the author's vein. It is a lucubracharacter, have kindly expressed it.” tion on the dreams of an inexperien

There are sixty of those poems in the ced candidate for the laurel. After volume; and they of course give con some lines in which the young aspisiderable opportunity for display. A rant details his ambition, he thus profew graver topics are honoured with an

ceeds to enjoy its fruits in vision :-occasional sonnet; and there are some very graceful and expressive stanzas to

Then while my name runs ringing through the memory of the Princess Charlotte,

reviews, a sainted memory, and worthy of all the And maids, wives, widows, smitten with my

muse, offerings of national sorrow and national genius. But the writer's spirit From this suburban attic I'll dismount,

Assail me with platonic billet doux ; seems to turn with a natural propen With Coutts or Barclay open an account ; sity, to the joyous and the poignant. Rang’d in a mirror, cards with bright gilt His sallies are in that style of lively ends, simplicity which is perhaps the true Shall shew the whole nobility my friends ;

* 12mo. Warren, Oldbond Street.

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no more,

after,

That happy host with whom I chuse to Soon would the brighten'd eye her influence dine,

speak, E Shall make set parties, give his choicest And her full roses flush the faded cheek.

wine; And age and infancy shall gape to see, Then, where romantic Hornsey courts the Whene'er I walk the street, and whisper,

eye, " That is he!”

With all the charms of sylvan scenery,

Let the pale Sons of Diligence repair, Poor youth ! he prints and wakes, to sleep And pause like me.

The world goes on indifferent as before ; The lines to a child are very touchB And the first notice of his metric skill ing and pretty; equally free from extra

Comes in the likeness of his printer's bill; vagant, pathetic, and baby simplicity,
To pen soft notes, no fair enthusiast stirs,

To MARY.
Except his laundress, and who values her's ?
None but herself ; for though the bard may

Written at Midnight.
burn

Oh! is there not in infant smiles Her note, she still expects one in return.

A witching power, a cheering ray, The luckless maiden, all unblest shall sigh ;

A charm that every care beguiles, His pocket tome hath drawn his pocket dry;

And bids the weary soul be gay ? · His tragedy expires in peals of laughter ; And that soul-thrilling wish to live here.

There surely is, for thou hast been

Child of my heart, my peaceful dove, Gives way to one as hopeless quite, I fear, Gladdening life's sad and chequer'd scene, And far more needful-how to live while

An emblem of the peace above. here. Where are ye now, divine illusions all !

Now all is calm, and dark and still, Cheques, dinners, tomes, admirers great and

And bright the beam the moonlight small !

throws Chang'd to two followers, terrible to see,

On ocean wave, and gentle rill, 1 Who dog him when he walks, and whisper,

And on thy slumbering cheeks of rose. " That is he.”

And may no care disturb that breast; The subject of the following extract

No sorrow dim that brow serene ; is rather citizenish, for it is nothing And may thy latest years be blest, more remote or romantic than Horne

As thy sweet infancy has been. sey Wood, eminent for tea-gardens and | trellises, and all the calamitous clip

The closing Poem is addressed to a

formidable whom it well behoves pings of shears, educated east of Temple-Bar . Yet there is beauty in trees, of the following order, are more likely

authorship to pacify. Whether verses and green shrubs, however they may be tortured, and the poet for a while to appease by their wit or provoke by discusses their captivations with obvious their satire, we leave to time and the

Reviewers. partiality. He then runs into pleasantry.

As some raw squire, by rustic nymphs adOh! ye who pine in London smoke im

mir'd, mur'd,

Of vulgar charms, and easy conquests tir’d; With spirits wearied, and with pains un Resolves new scenes and nobler flights to cur'd,

dare, With all the catalogue of city evils, Nor" waste his sweetness on the desert air, Colds, asthmas, rheumatism, coughs, blue To town repairs, some fam'd assembly seeks, devils !

With red importance blustering in his Who bid each bold empiric roll in wealth, cheeks ; Who drains your fortunes, while he saps But when, electric on th' astonish'd wight, your health ;

Bursts the full floods of music and of light, So well ye love your miry streets and lanes, While levell’d mirrors multiply the rows Ye court your ailments and embrace your Of radiant beauties and accomplish'd beaus, pains.

At once confounded into sober sense, And scarceye know, yourspectacles between, He feels his pristine insignificance ; If corn be yellow, or if grass be green. And blinking, blust'ring from the general Why leave ye not your smoke-obstructed

quiz, holes,

Retreats “ to ponder on the thing he is.” With wholesome air to cheer your sickly By pride inflated, and by praise allurid, souls ?

Small authors thus strut forth, and thus get In scenes where Health's bright goddess cur’d. wakes the breeze,

But critics, hear ! an angel pleads for me, Floats on the stream, and fans the whisp. That tongueless, ten-tongued cherub-Mo’ring trees,

desty.

race,

Sirs, if you damn me, you'll resemble those credit to the liveliness and poetic spiThat flay'd the traveller who had lost his rit of the writer. Without doubting clothes.

that he has powers for pathetic poetry, Are there not foes enough to do my books ? Relentless trunk-makers and pastry-cooks ? work of some length on a humorous

we would wish to see him produce a Acknowledge not those barbarous allies, The wooden box-men and the men of pies. subject. He is in the best spot of the For Heav'n's sake, let it ne'er be understood, earth for his selection. Let him give That you great censors coalesce with Wood;

us a laughing view of the oddities of Nor let your actions contradict your looks, the metropolis ; let him call his work That tell the world you ne'er colleague with “ The Streets,” and take his

way from cooks.

Cheapside to Bond Street. The work On the whole, this volume does great must be popular.

THE EARTHQUAKE.

This Novel consists chiefly of a se city by the predominance of sensual ries of adventures, which are supposed habits, despondency, and downwardto befal the natural son of a Sicilian tending passions. But the tone is too actress. It takes its name from the desponding throughout, and, if the asevents of the story being connected with cendancy of good in the mind of Castthe earthquake which destroyed Mes- agnello had ultimately been greater, sina. The general outline of the story the moral would have been better. is well conceived; but, owing to a want Throughout the narrative, there freof that progressive interest experienced, quently occur observations not only oriwhen the mutual derivation of events ginal and indicative of earnest thought, is all along made sufficiently intelligi- but also finely expressed, and the whole ble to the reader, the pleasure felt in narration shews an ample power of exthe perusal of the book as a narration, pression. The chief fault is the want is not in proportion to the merit of the of scenes directly agreeable to the imoutline. The incidents are often tri- agination, and of a more interesting vial and disagreeable, and have an ex- progression in the incidents. The folcessive tendency towards scenes of mere lowing quotation is from the concluhorror and disgust, which have no al- sion. liance to the nobler emotions of tragic “ We have simply endeavoured to delihorror and pity, but are only shocking neate a character not uncommon in the like night-mare dreams. For, the pic. world ; who abandoning himself to the imture of what is painful and terrible to pulses of passion, unchecked by any imbe contemplated, is only valuable in pressed sentiment or principle, yet in the proportion, as the shock' awakens the main possessed of the rudiments of many mind to the internal feeling of moral virtues, acts throughout life, with as little truth and beauty. But many scenes of self-respect, and equally exposed to ignomithis Novel are fitted to produce that my, as the libertine, who is as it were natueffect. It does not corrupt the mind by

rally vicious and artificially fraudulent.

" It is wicked to palliate crime, (as it has dwelling upon the delights of the pas- been done in some instances, with wondersions, but hastens throughout to shew ful success, by German authors, of surprithe ruin they produce. The design of sing talent ) and it is not a good taste that the book seems to be to shew the men would ingraft interest on any fiction, by tal degradation and perplexity produ- adopting incidents calculated to revolt the ced by guilt, and to exemplify the pain- common sympathies of mankind, as in some ful commotions of a spiriť naturally late instances nearer home has been the generous, but which has lost as it were

case; but it cannot be detrimental to a juits moral freedom by the commission tinctive characteristics of guilt and error. In

dicious benevolence, to discriminate the disof crimes. The mind of Castagnello, the foregoing pages, Castagnello appears to the hero, is seen alternately struggling have touched the edge of the grossest inito rise into integrity and nobler hope, quities, and in more than one instance to and again drawn back into dismal opa- have been spared from the commission of

* A Tale; by the author of “ The Ayrshire Legatées,” 3 vols. 12mo. William Blackwood, Edinburgh ; and T. Cadell and W. Davies, London,

crime, by the intervention of circumstances dation to Cardinal Albano, he there over which he had no controul. But in all learns all the modes of dissipation comthese particular situations, we have endea

mon among the youth of the nobility, voured to mark the difference between the error of yielding to temptation, and the vi- the Cardinal to find him a place in the

so that it soon becomes necessary for ciousness of seeking opportunities to sin. We conceive it quite probable indeed, that there Austrian army. There he rises in es

may be many in the world for whose mis. teem and in rank, till it is discovered 1: conduct it would be difficult to find any ex

that he is the son of an actress ; after cuse, and yet who retain in their outcast which the officers, according to the condition the materials and ruins of a bet- aristocratical feelings prevailing in the ter nature. The wildest flights of guilt are German army, consider him as an unoften dictated by the despair of virtue, and worthy companion, and he finds his victims have been consigned to disgrace and situation so disagreeable that he leaves punishment by their own sense of humilia- the regiment. He then goes to Paris tion, when the world, even with all its se. where he falls into habits of gaming, verity, was disposed to overlook their offen- and accidentally meets with Bellina, a ces. There is no judge, perhaps, so austere, lady of rank, whom he had formerly as the indignant conscience of a generous and ingenuous mind ; and we know not how loved as his foster sister in childhood. often, when we condemn and exclude the But his visits to her, although innocent, wild and reckless, as unworthy of confidence excite the jealousy of her husband; and as traitors to indulgence, we ought ra- and, one night, after having been comther to court them into a belief that they are pletely ruined at the gaming table, his

less in fault, than their own high notions of intemperate behaviour at the house of * purity and honour suggest.

Bellina, causes him to be driven out 6 Butin proportion to the tenderness which into the street by her husband and dowe would inculcate towards the errors that mestics. He then, in despair, embarks flow from circumstances and situation, is the for the Fast Indies. He is wrecked on austerity which we would claim against the propensities of inborn guilt. Few men have the coast of Africa, and, afterwards had any experience of life, without soon dis- meets with adventures, which are neicovering that the world really contains cha- ther amusing nor at all connected with racters intrinsically bad, whose very obser- the story. From Africa coming to Malvance of the rites of religion and the obli- ta, he becomes one of the Knights of gations of the law, in which they sometimes St John, and intrigues with the misgreatly excel, is a proof either of their con tress of another member of that holy sciousness of the evil in themselves, or of order. A quarrel ensues, and, the affair that evil being actively in operation to pro- becoming public, Castagnello is for the cure the sinister advantages sometimes at- scandal banished from Malta. He then, tained by hypocrisy. Between such charac- with some others of the Maltese knights, ters and the thoughtless, the imprudent, or the passionate, there is an immeasurable also banished, goes to Sicily and they difference; and, if we have exhibited the become robbers, and have their haunt adventures of Castagnello, conceiving that among the ruins of ancient Selinus. he illustrated the extremest case of the lat. Here an unfortunate Countess Corneli ter class, more fully than those of Corneli, falls into their hands. Her husband, which we have thrown into the back ground, soon after her marriage, wishing to be it is because it can never be favourable to released again from the bonds of macorrect moral impressions, to excite sympa- trimony, had consigned her during her thy towards the condition or the feelings of illness to the abbess of a Sicilian cons the criminal, who sacrifices himself untempt- vent, to be kept as an insane person, ed. But the moral tendency of a tale or a drama is the last thing considered by a rea

that Count Corneli might act as if she der and if we have failed to interest, we

were no longer alive. She, however, cannot presume to hope that we shall be escapes from the convent, and in traable to instruct; or expect to redeem by velling towards the residence of one of general reflections and metaphysical distinc- her relations, she is deserted by the tions, the defects of our narrative, or the persons who accompanied her, and falls want of portraiture in our characters." into the hands of the robbers. Here

Castagnello is the natural son of an some scenes ensụe in the old-fashioned English nobleman, and owing to the style of Mrs Radcliffe. They are, howsituation of his mother, a Sicilian act- ever, neither amusing nor written with ress, is educated from the beginning in much taste. The robbers also take habits and pleasures above his station. Count Corneli, who by accident is traBeing sent to Rome with a recommen- velling that way. But the robbersthemVOL. VIII.

3 L

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selves are seized by a tröop from Palere despair. Are you a Sicilian ?' for I mo. So the husband is again burdened thought he was some stranger, who underwith his wife. The robbers are brought stood not our language, and at these words to trial and convicted; but Castagnello he cried, ' I was, but I know not what I

am now! I am lost! I am friendless! is fortunately pardoned at the interces

Heaven has deserted me: I can only now sion of an English traveller, Lord Wild

die.' waste. This nobleman turns out to be

" " I spoke to him kindly, and requested brother of Castagnello, by the same him to sit down beside me, which he did as father, who after leaving his mistress if he knew not what he was doing, and bethe actress, had gone home and married gan to sob and weep bitterly. This, Sigror, in England. From Lord Wildwaste was very unmanly, but yet at the time, it Castagnello receives pecuniary assist seemed more to come from the simplicity of ance. He then resolves upon going to

his heart than the weakness of his characPalermo, and travels thither with a young Sicilian, who had been former “I inquired into the cause of his grief, ly schoolmaster and poet in a village,

and he replied, in an incoherent manner,

60! ask me not. I have been enchanted but now wishes to try his fortune as a dramatic poet in Palermo. Here Cast- had dominion over me the powers of hea

I have been in bad company-Satan has agnello, being seized with his former

ven and hell have been at war with me, passion for gaming, induces poor Sale and between them I have been lost, for I pano, the young poet, to accompany am innocent of any crime, and yet I am him to the gaming table to look on. ruined for ever. My fame is destroyed in Castagnello, finding Lord Wildwaste the bud; the harvest of my glory cut off in in Palermo, is engaged for some days the blight that has fallen on my opening! with him. Afterwards, upon inquiring

" I allowed him to run on in this man. after Salpano, he cannot find him at ner, until he had so exhausted himself, that their lodgings. At last he discovers him he, in consequence, became calmer, and I at

last learnt that he had lost his little all at the dying in a miserable house. Salpano had lost all his pittance at the gaming red to return, in the fallacious hope of re

gaming table, to which he had been allutable, and having wandered afterwards covering his first losses. I invited him to through Palermo in a state of wretch- stop all night in my house, and tried what edness, till hunger overpowered him, I could to sooth his distress, and appease he was carried dying into the house of the upbraidings of his own mind, but witha charitable mechanic. Castagnello wit out success. Benevolence, however, obliged nesses his death.

me to constrain him to remain, but no ef66 The old man gave the following ac

fort of kindness could recal him from the count of Salpano.

despondency into which he had fallen. 666 About a fortnight ago, Signor, as I

6 6 I became alarmed for the unhappy was one evening sitting at my door smoak- youth, for he did nothing but wring his ing a segar, and thinking on my past life, hands, and give way to his forebodings. All as I always do at the close of the day, won

the night he lay wakeful, sighing, and dering by what strange turns of fortune I wretched ; and in the morning, when he have been so long provided with the means

rose, instead of being interested by the obof living, though but in a stinted measure, jects to which the day-light gave cheerful. a young man, with a box under his arm, ness, he sat in an obscure corner, dropped passed by, with a quick pace and a wild his clasped hands between his legs, and look. Our street is narrow, and it is closed hung his head in a state of the most deat the one end. He went to that end, and plorable dejection. turned back evidently more agitated than

66. This could not endure long. Towards before. His appearance struck me : he had

the afternoon his lips became parched, and a simple recluse look, and he was evidently his face flushed with fever : à draught of in great distress. Friend, said I, you seem

cold water was all he could taste, and with to have lost your way, and you appear very scarcely more sustenance he has continued tired ; rest yourself a little beside me, and

in the same state ever since; but nature is I will afterwards set you right. At these exhausted ; the oil of life is burnt out, and words he came towards me like a lost dog, the lamp, by pale and feeble flashes, shows that has found one whom he would like for that it will soon expire.' a master. He placed his box on the ground,

66 The old man had, during this narraand taking høld of my hand, kissed it with tion, conducted, Castagnello to his door. the reverence of a sinner to a saint.

« Tread softly,' said he, as you enter, lest “ • Where are you going ?' said I : but you disturb the last moments of the miserhe answered not ; he only shook his head, able youth.' and expanding his arms, looked the very “ Castagnello needed 'no admonition to picture of one woe-begone, and wild with do this. His own feelings were wrought up

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