called work-houses) and other similar establishments would be useless incumbrances.

The poetical part of this production is divided under three heads, entituled "The Death of the Righteous, "The Memory of the Just," and "The good Man's Monument." We do not think that any of them are of very high merit, though it is not fair to criticise them with great strictness, taking into account the object for which, and the speed with which they were written. The works of this author have of late years been rather of too sombre, a cast to give general satisfaction, and differ materially from those of which he reminds us in the title page to the pamphlet in hand he never laid any high claims to originality of thinking, and perhaps, in his "Wanderer of Switzerland," has gone as far as his powers would allow him. We will give a short specimen from each of the divisions of the poem before us: the titles sufficiently explain the nature of the contents. "The Death of the Righteous" opens with these stanzas.

:

"This place is holy ground;

World, with thy cares, away!
Silence and darkness reign around,
But, lo! the break of day:

What bright and sudden dawn appears,
To shine upon this scene of tears?

""Tis not the morning-light,

That wakes the lark to sing; 'Tis not a meteor of the night, Nor track of angel's wing:

It is an uncreated beam,

Like that which shone on Jacob's dream.

"Eternity and Time

Met for a moment here;

From earth to heaven, a scale sublime
Rested on either sphere,

Whose steps a saintly figure trod,

By Death's cold hand led home to God.

This strikes us as an attempt at the sublime, which only arrives at the unintelligible: it concludes, however, in better stile and taste.

"-Behold the bed of death;

This pale and lovely clay;

Heard ye the sob of parting breath?
Mark'd ye the eye's last ray?

No;-life so sweetly ceased to be,
It lapsed in immortality.

"Could tears revive the dead,

Rivers should swell our eyes;
Could sighs recal the spirit fled,
We would not quench our sighs,
Till love relumed this alter'd mien,
And all the embodied soul were seen.

"Bury the dead ;-and weep
In stillness o'er the loss;

Bury the dead;-in Christ they sleep,
Who bore on earth his cross,

And from the grave their dust shall rise,
In his own image to the skies."

From the second part we quote a poetical description of the humble and benignant appearance of Richard Reynolds the simile of the cedar is not at all happy, in as much as, in truth, its branches shelter nothing but the sterile earth, which seems blasted into barrenness by its baleful shade; this surely cannot apply to Richard Reynolds. "He was One, whose open face

Did his inmost heart reveal;

One, who wore with meekest grace,
On his forehead, Heaven's broad seal.
"Kindness all his looks express'd,
Charity was every word;

Him the eye beheld, and bless'd;
And the ear rejoiced that heard.
"Like a patriarchal sage,

Holy, humble, courteous, mild,
He could blend the awe of age
With the sweetness of a child.

"As a cedar of the Lord,

On the height of Lebanon,
Shade and shelter doth afford,

From the tempest and the sun :-
"While in green luxuriant prime,
Fragrant airs its boughs diffuse,
From its locks it shakes sublime,
O'er the hills, the morning dews.
"Thus he flourish'd, tall and strong,
Glorious in perennial health;
Thus he scatter'd, late and long,
All his plenitude of wealth."

"The good Man's Monument" is superior, in some respects, to the other two parts, but it is altogether devoid of originality: on such a stale subject novelty of thought, however, is scarcely to be expected from the utmost ingenuity. There is a little too much effort in the opening, but the subsequent lines in praise of Bristol are easier, and the simile of the Severn, though not new, is better managed than that of the cedar, and has, besides, more truth of application to recommend it.

"Bristol! to thee the eye of Albion turns;

At thought of thee thy country's spirit burns;
For in thy walls, as on her dearest ground,
Are "British minds and British manners" found;
And’midst the wealth, which Avon's waters pour
From every clime, on thy commercial shore,
Thou hast a native mine of worth untold;
Thine heart is not encased in rigid gold,
Wither'd to mummy, steel'd against distress;
No-free as Severn's waves, that spring to bless
Their parent hills, but as they roll expand
In argent beauty thro' a lovelier land,

And widening, brightening to the western sun,
In floods of glory through thy channel run;
Thence, mingling with the boundless tide, are hurl'd
In Ocean's chariot round the utmost world:

Thus flow thine heart-streams, warm and unconfined,
At home, abroad, to woe of every kind.
Worthy wert thou of Reynolds;-worthy he
To rank the first of Britons even in thee.
Reynold's is dead;-thy lap receives his dust
Until the resurrection of the just :

Reynold's is dead; but while thy rivers roll,
Immortal in thy bosom lives his soul !"

Although Mr. Montgomery's is the only printed effusion upon the death of á man whose name will hereafter be recorded among the great benefactors of the species, yet it is not the only poem that has been written upon the same subject by those who admired his character or experienced his generosity. We beg leave to subjoin the following sonnet by a young man of Bristol, (a city not less famous for the production of poets, than for other excellencies above pointed out), who was well acquainted with the subject of his verse. We apprehend that it is quite as good as any part of the production of Mr. Montgomery. CRIT. REV. VOL. V. Jan. 1817.

G

SONNET UPON THE DEATH OF RICHARD REYNOLDS.

"Oh, how unlike the rest of recent date,
Who, in bestowing, take especial care

That out of their good deeds they reap their share
Of benefit; and all in form and state

Put forth their names at length as good and great,
The benefactors of the human kind:

Such boastful alms thou didst contemn and hate,
And wisely held, in thy unworldly mind,
That half the good of charity was lost,
When its chief motive was an empty boast.
Not such the charity which thou display'd,
That like a silent spring still watered most,

Where least 'twas seen, and only was betray'd
By its effects,-the verdure that it made."

ART. V. The Statesman's Manual; or, the Bible the best Guide to Political Skill and Foresight: a Lay Sermon, addressed to the higher Classes of Society, with an Appendix, containing Comments and Essays connected with the Study of the inspired Writings. By S. T. COLERidge, Esq. Ad ist hæc quæso vos, qualia cunque primo videantur aspectu, adtendite, ut qui vobis forsan insanire videar, saltem quibus insaniam rationibus cognoscatis,' London, Gale and Fenner. 1816.

It is very true, as Johnson said in his formal way, "Every writer writes not for every reader." Unfortunately, too many readers presume that they are written for in every book they take in hand, and too many writers aspire to the rare glory of addressing, with effect, readers of every description. Hence, on the part of the public, a great deal of incompetent and presumptuous criticism; and on the part of authors, a great deal of ambitious and unsuccessful composition. The department of literature, in which this vice is most apparent, is that which in Germany is called philosophy, and by us, metaphysicks; and, for a very obvious reason, that this prima scientia appertains to the people in its results, and to the few in its scientific study. In our country the well known division of doctrines and modes of instruction into the exoteric and esoteric has been nearly lost. Mr. Locke's philosophy is essentially popular, professing, as it does, to bring down the most interesting and importing subjects to the level of ordinary minds, and with ordinary labour; all his followers of the French and

English schools have proceeded on the same plan; and the Scotch philosophers, though the tendency of their system is to revive, in some points, the scholastic doctrines, have not dared to dispossess the larger public of their jurisdiction in the decision of the great questions which have ever been, and ever will be, in dispute among philosophers of all classes. In the mean while, scholastic subtleties have been revived with great ardour in Germany and metaphysics now form, among that very studious people, an object of study requiring its distinct language and its laborious discipline. The metaphysicians there write for each other; and all their eminent writers, adopting a scholastic language, disclaim popularity. They no more expect their personal friends and acquaintances to read their works, than in this country a professor of oriental languages would. It is only in Germany that such a body of scholastic metaphysicians could well have sprung up, for it is only in Germany that readers sufficiently numerous could be found to repay even the expense of publication; and though an ignoble impediment, it will for a long time be found, we expect, an effectual one against the introduction of similar works in this country. Readers must be first formed by writers, but without an immediate expectation of readers there will be no publishers. These remarks have been forced from us by a perusal of this pamphlet, which will assuredly be but little read, and by its readers be but little enjoyed or understood; not without some blame to the author, we conceive, but, for the greater part, from the general cause we have already indicated. Mr. Coleridge has formed his taste and opinions in the German schools, he himself possessing congenial talent with those of the distinguished men who have given the law to the public mind there. We have found, on a comparison of his writings with those of his continental contemporaries, coincidencies which cannot always be accidental, at the same time we owe it to him to acknowledge that, in those writings, there is a felicity of statement and illustration, which are a sure proof that he is by no means a general borrower or translator; however, it is not very important to ascertain how much of Mr. Coleridge's philosophy is derived from sources within or out of himself, it is certain that that philosophy is directly hostile to all the systems current in this country; and, therefore, in presenting it to a public so little congenial with himself he has insuperable difficulties to encounter. What he has to say cannot be rendered intel