• In the midst of the heath stood an old oak tree,
And the form of its branches was lovely to see;
And this beautiful oak as the Lawyer rode under,
Was sever'd in twain by the loud-rolling thunder.
• More cold blew the wind-more fell howl'd the blast,
The Lawyer thought ev'ry moment his last;
When, to add to his fear, he espied on the road,
A monstrous, and ugly, black, venomous toad.
The blood of the Lawyer was chill'd at the sight,
And even his horse started back with affright;
For most foul was the toad, most enormous its size,
And the living fire seem'd to flash from its eyes.
The Lawyer could hardly keep firm on his seat,
His pulse for an instant neglected to beat ;-
When, raising his hand, he his whip gave a smack,
And the monster, so venomous, struck on the back.
But, alas! how his frame shook with agoniz'd wonder,
As the reptile's dark skin he saw parting asunder,
And beheld on his haunches the AUTHOR OF EVIL!
"As I live," cried the wretch, "'tis Old Nick! 'tis the
Devil."

The Devil leap'd up with a horrible cry,

And his stature was quickly eleven feet high!-
His forehead and cheeks were glowing with flame,
And he seem'd to rejoice at the sound of his name.
• O'er his shoulders a quiver of arrows was thrown,
In his right claw he grasp'd a huge marrow-bone ;-
In his left, a large roll of sulphur burnt blue,
For pastime to smoke when he'd nought else to do.
The Lawyer, with fear grew as pale as a corse,
And thrilling with dread, turn'd the head of his horse;
Then back o'er the heath flew as swift as the wind,
In hopes to leave hell's grimly monarch behind.

• More cold blew the wind,-more fell howl'd the blast,
The Lawyer thought every moment his last;

Every tooth in his head chatter'd quick with his fears,
For the cry of the Devil still rung in his cars.'

So the Devil flew away with the Lawyer's soul'

is a line on which no comment is required, if it be meant for plain prose. More experience will, we doubt not, teach the authors to correct these faults; and we had rather see tokens of genius accompanied with blemishes, than mediocrity with dull correctness. Man Art. 13. Poems on several Occasions. By Charles Crawford, Esq. Crown 8vo. 2 Vols. 7s. Boards. Becket.

The first of these volumes is occupied by a poem in six books, intitled The Christian: the second contains-Richmond-Hill-The

8

Dying

Dying Prostitute-Augusta and Sophronia-The Forsaken MaidOde on Spring-On Adversity-Verses on the Recovery of a young Lady from Sickness-The Jasmin-Epitaph-Lines on the Death of John Wesley-Imitation of a Passage in Job-The Oak-Paraphrase of the Sermon on the Mount-The Restoration of Jerusalem. In proportion to our approbation of the virtuous and amiable tendency of Mr. Crawford's writings, must be our regret on being restrained by the laws of our Court from paying any high compliments to his Muse: but, as we have remarked, till we are ourselves disgusted with the repetition, good meaning is not a sufficient atonement for bad poetry, when a man professedly undertakes to delight us with the charms of verse. The subject of the first poem is capable of the richest embellishment, or rather is a theme which furnishes the richest and noblest thoughts: to discuss it, then, in tame numbers, must disappoint; and what other character do the following lines exhibit? In pain and danger hence undaunted be, And tread upon the Roman constancy: And be than all their vaunted heroes more, Above their history, their fable soar.'

Mr. C. is little attentive to the lucidus ordo; for, in the formation of his lines, words are greatly transposed. Thus,

Castalia, sweeter than, O Thames, flow thine.'

Oft has my mind deprest new vigor found,
As if the Muse her inspiration round,
As on a fav'rite hallow'd mount had thrown
Enamour'd, and had made it all her own.'

The man of taste will be able to appreciate Mr. C's poetical merit from the Ode to Adversity, which we shall transcribe entire.

O thou dread pow'r, whose ruthless sway,

The gen'ral race of men obey!

Full many a keen vindictive dart
Of thine, has pierc'd my lab'ring heart;
Which my faults urg'd, or others' spite
To point has ta'en unkind delight.

Yet many

of thy stings and scorn,

Right manfully for years I've borne.
O grant that I henceforth may know,
For oft these gifts thou deign'st bestow,
A feeling yet a patient mind,
Which is delib'rate and resign'd;
Which keeps a firm and equal state,
Though tender not effeminate;
That always for another's woe,
The tear of Sympathy may flow;
But let me weakly ne'er lament,
With heart-corroding Discontent,
The heav'n-appointed cares of man,
Which is as impious as 'tis vain.
Yet when I feel the chast'ning rod,
Of my Friend, Father, and my God,

Let

Let me dejected in the dust,
Confess the punishment is just,
And may it happily improve
My filial reverence and love.
Thus Hope from Piety that's bred,
Shall rise upon thy foot stool head,
Above this vale of tears aspire,
Like great Elijah in his car of fire,
And in exultant joy be driv'n,

To all the deathless bliss of heav'n.'

We do not see the propriety of calling these lines an ode, any more
than we can find a rhime in man and vain; or can comprehend what is
meant by the head of a foot-stool.

Art. 14. The Judge; or an Estimate of the Importance of the
Judicial Character, occasioned by the Death of the late Lord
Clare, Lord Chancellor of Ireland. A Poem, in Three Cantos.
By the Rev. Jerome Alley, Chaplain to the Right Honourable
Lord Sheffield, &c. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d. Boards. Vernor and
Hood.

In the description of an upright and impartial Judge, this author
makes many pertinent reflections on the duties which belong to that
venerable character, when it is supported with ability and integrity;
and in the course of the poem several handsome compliments are paid
to the memory of the late Lord Chancellor Clare of Ireland, whom
the poet represents as an illustrious example of the virtues which he
describes. While the author passes this encomium on the exalted
virtues of that nobleman, he takes occasion to point out defects which
degrade the sacred office of a Judge, and, although but rarely, stain
the annals of our history. By means of this contrast, the meritorious
pattern of Lord Clare is rendered still more conspicuous, and his me-
mory shines with redoubled lustre.

With regard to the composition of this poem, we shall endeavour to
imitate the example represented in it, and to administer impartial jus-
tice from our " awful Bench."-Passages may be selected from dif.
ferent parts of the composition, which, taken separately, will please
and be approved: but, as a whole, it is not calculated to excite any
great degree of admiration. It wants force and animation to rouse
and attract the reader's attention; and, in the use of figurative lan.
guage, the metaphor is overstrained, and loses its beauty and effect.
For instance, (p. 36,) in describing the grave as uttering the voice of
admonition, the author compares it to the Athenian Lyceum, and
every bone is said to be an Aristotle philosophizing to mankind,
6 Yet that earth,

Fresh from the delving spade, might well awake
Far different thought. It is a volume, rich
In precious wisdom; a Lycæan school,
Where every bone becomes a Stagyrite,

Skill'd in such inference, as should make the heart
Of each poor frail one quake.'

12

This

Mo-y.

This is a laughable conceit. The figure was bold enough, when the comparison was between the grave and a volume of precious wisdom! There the author should have stopped. - Again, at p. 45, the figure prosopopeia, which has a very happy effect in poetry when temperately employed, is carried to such length that almost every noun for two pages is brought on the stage of human life, and made to act a part in this crowded Phantasmagoria. Again, when the author in his zealous affection for the character which he describes, (p. 19.) speaks of the virtuous Judge whom he venerates as a God,' how can we acquit the reverend Divine, at our tribunal, of the charge of idolatry?

To shew that there are other passages, which deserve commenda-
tion, we make one short extract, describing the character of a good
landlord:
. For he felt,

As man, for man; he watch'd, with anxious eye,
The humblest cottage right; and-not like those,
Who o'er their lands with tyrant folly rule,
Till, a whole province ruin'd, they remain
The living pyramids of unpeopled wilds!
He lov'd the little hamlet; lov'd and sooth'd
The toiling tenant, and gave Hope to twine
The peasant's sickle with her fairy flowers.
Hence, p'er his grounds, no sorrowing vassal sigh'd,
Pampering a despot's ear! no wretched race
Of starving slaves proclaim'd the landlord's guilt.
Peace, and her sister Plenty, led the flocks
That o'er his pastures stray'd; or held the plough
That furrow'd his rich glebe.'

Here the personification adds to the beauty of the image, and the office of Hope is peculiarly poetical. We shall only add that several sensible notes accompany the poem; and we particularly approve of one, in which the author speaks the sentiments of a true Englishman respecting Patriotism, and pays in the meantime a grateful tribute to his patron Lord Sheffield.

Art. 15. The Lewes Library Society; a Poem. By John Button, jun. of the Classical and Commercial Academy, Cliff, Lewes, 4to. 38. Button and Co. &c.

We need not descant on Library-Societies as being the most cheap, useful, and amusing institutions which can be established in country towns. They afford not only a permanent but a growing fund of instruction, and must obtain the good wishes, if not the actual pa tronage, of all those who are friends to the diffusion of knowlege. As we rank ourselves in this class, we perused with satisfaction the ac count of the establishment and progress of the Library Society at Lewes; and, from Mr. Button's well-written preface, we conceived hopes of finding a laudable institution embellished and recommended by the fascinating attractions of the Muse. Having also mentioned friends who had perused his Poem with a critical eye, and who had favored him with their suggestions, we were prepared (though these suggestions might not have been implicitly adopted) for that dish of REY. SEPT. 1804.

H

literary

·Mans.

literary luxury, a correct and polished Poem. Alas!-but let us not damp the gen'rous ardour of the bard', if we attempt to convince him that he would have pleased a greater number of readers, and have incurred no danger of losing his ass,' (to use his own comparison,) had the hints of his critical friends been more regarded.

Poetry has the property of elevating its subject: how Mr. Button has succeeded in this respect, let his view of the Lewes book-society declare:

• Doctors their drugs forsake, and swains their fields,

To cull the choicer fruits which science yields :
Grocers neglect their sugar and bohea,

And e'en attornies here forget their fee.'

The account of the ballotting for members is not more happy: but when Mr. B. proceeds to detail the contents of the library, he makes some little amends in describing the Encyclopædia, by his translation of the motto from Lucretius:

Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant,

Omnia nos

And, as the bee from ev'ry flow'r that blows,
The nettle blossom, or the fragrant rose,
With small proboscis sucks the honied sweet,
And humming bears it to his thatch'd retreat,

They from each book the worthier part compress'd,
Revive the ancient, and the crude digest;

Lop the redundant, the defects supply,

And wand'ring phrases bind in closer tie.'

As a grammarian, how could Mr. Button suffer the following Couplet to stand?

• But far the most from Lewes' pop'lous site

Her sons repair, and in the cause unite.'

August ripes the ear' is not now admissible, for we must distinguish the verb to ripen from the adjective ripe; and ́rouses rage' is a vulgar alliteration, which should be avoided in poetry.

For the sake of a word to make out his rhime, Mr. B. has stocked Lewes with men of philosophic genius:

To suit the various genius of the throng,

These shelves to mild philosophy belong.'

Perhaps Mr. Belsham's History of the present reign may stand in the library by the side of Lord Littleton's History of Henry II.: but what reason can there be for joining them together in the same couplet? What a chronological jump backward from the first to the accond line!

And ample scope to BELSHAM's pen affords :

The second HENRY'S LITTLETON records.'

After having celebrated the praise of Dr. Johnson, Mr. B. subjoins this set-off:

• Here would I close-but Truth forbids the pause,
And blame is mingled with the warm applause;