*

Come, Jock, the mafter-workman, thou
Shalt hold, and I will drive, the plough:
Steer well, and, lo, for thy reward,
A good rough shirt to fcrub thee hard.'
Her team prepar'd, her goad fhe took,
And Hodge was left at home to look.
VII.

Seven goflings, trufted to his care,
Were call'd to take their morning fare;
When down a whorefon kite there flew,
Who claw'd up five, and left him two.
Hodge heard their screams, in piteous plight,
And ran to mark the felon's flight:

"The foul fiend take, quoth he, fuch luck :"
Mean while, the calves broke loose to fuck.

VIII.

Their dams they found in neighbouring lane;
Said Hodge, "De'il drive ye home again."-
An ill-will'd cow that faw him dodge,

And lov'd her calf much more than Hodge,
With pointed horn, and low'ring head,
Grubb'd his bare buttocks till they bled.
Quo' He, "this is a vile beginning!
However, I'll go home to fpinning."
He held his rock too near the fire,
And faw the flax in flames expire.

IX.

Such griefs as these in profe or rhyme
Were never told.-"Twas churning time:

He fweat and churn'd, and churn'd and fweat,

But deuce a butter Hodge could get.

i

XV.

;

She aim'd her pole indignant at his head,
And Hodge, in terror, from the vengeance fled
He knew her might, and cry'd, in humble ftrain,'
"If ever more I of my plough complain,
May my bare buttocks feel the horn of Crummy,
And thou, fweet Nan, fhall beat me into mummy."

L

ART. XI. Memoirs of the Marquis de St. Forlaix. Tranflated from the French of Monf. Framery, by Mrs. Brooke. Vols. III. and IV. 12mo. 5s. fewed. Dodfley. 1770.

WE

E had formerly an opportunity of making fome observations on the Memoirs of the Marquis de St. Forlaix *; and the commendation that we bestowed on the former volumes of this work, we cannot refufe to thofe which are now before us. The Author, while he has given fufficient variety to the incidents he employs, has felected them with taste; and we equally admire his imagination and his judgment. Acquainted with the human paffions, he expreffes them with delicacy, or with force, as it fuits the fituations he defcribes. His art does not allow us to anticipate or conjecture the events which he is to produce.. He holds us in a bewitching fufpence, and is ever exciting our furprize. He has not interrupted the unity of his work, by calling too frequently our attention from St. Forlaix; and, on this account, we are the more affected with the turns of his fortune. The behaviour of Monf. D'Ornance, under the affumed name and character of Monf. De Premont, is beautifully imaged. The nice ideas of honour which it discovers, are perfectly confiftent with French manners, and neceffarily refult from a defpotic government. The misfortunes of Corfange, and of Henrietta, are well fancied, and finely painted; but poetical juftice, we fhould think, did not require that they should have perished. Our Author feems to have forgot that they repented of their imprudence. We must likewife remark, that the conclufion of the work is abrupt, and is not calculated to give full fatisfaction to the reader of fenfibility. After all the diftreffes of St. Forlaix, his happiness ought not to have been merely hinted at. The following extract from a letter, which St. Forlaix addreffes to M. de Prele, may entertain our Readers:

I fet out, with Monf. D'Ornance and Julia, on the day appointed for our journey.

We were not far from my fifter's convent. It grew dark; we were furprifed at feeing a prodigious flame rife at fome diftance from us: the nearer we approached the more we were

See our Review for November laft, p. 362.

5

convinced

tonvinced there was a terrible fire in the neighbourhood. The cries of the fufferers, the found of bells, the tumult did not leave us long in doubt. The fire was in the conn: one half of it was already reduced to afhes. I threw myself out of the coach. Monf. D'Ornance, in fpite of my entreaties, followed me. We took all our fervants with us, except the coachman, who stayed with Julia. We advanced acrofs the ftill burning ruins. We faw the nuns, pale, aghaft, weeping, lamenting, raising their fupplicating eyes to heaven.

I asked with a trembling voice for Henrietta: nobody liftened to me. I fought her in vain amongst the crowd. One of the unhappy women at length heard me.

"Alas! Sir, fhe perifhes. Her extreme weakness has not permitted her to escape as we have done. She is in that wing of the convent: it is not yet damaged; but who will pafs through flames and ruins, and hazard life in the attempt to fave her ?"

"Her brother," cried I, darting precipitately towards the place, left I fhould be ftopped by Monf. D'Ornance: he indeed We had juft reached the followed, but it was to fecond me. place where she was inclofed, when the building fell at our feet with the moft horrible noife. What was my defpair at that moment! my frantic cries fufficiently witneffed it.

If my friend had not prevented me, I had buried myself in the burning ruins. He with difficulty forced me from this fpectacle of horror. A few paces from us, there paffed a scene not lefs dreadful. The old priest who officiates in the convent, and to whose hofpitality you were once obliged, terrified, appaled, his feeble limbs fcarce fupporting his body, ran notwithstanding round the court, with an air of wildness and diftraction. The excess of his forrow feemed to give him new force. He fhed He filled the air with his cries. He called torrent of tears. his fon. He fought him every where; but the effort he had made on himself had wafted his remains of ftrength. He funk down at our feet. We raised him up.

My fon!" cried he, "he abandons me! He promised to be the fupport of my age. He is gone to lose his life in the flames, into which he has thrown himself. He deferted me; I would have followed him. He did not hear my voice; I only found him to fee him plunge himself into the greatest dangers; he has entered the convent."

• We endeavoured, in the best manner we could, to confole this good old man. A new cry made us turn our heads to the other fide. We faw a man come out of the convent, in a ftate which excited all our compaffion. He bore a nun in his arms. Flakes of fire, ftones, beams half burnt and Aill blazing, fell around him, without his appearing at all affected. He walked REV. Jan. 1771.

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with

with intrepidity over burning coals. He expofed himself to a variety of perils, to turn them from her whom he had snatched from the fire.

The old man raised himfelf.

"Great Heaven !" cried he, "it is my fon! it is the happiness of my life!"

The young man was already out of the court: he advanced towards us; we flew to meet him. The good ecclefiaftic followed us. The nuns, those who came to affist them, and who, defpairing of extinguishing the fire, had abandoned the attempt, all furrounded us.

The young man fet down the nun on a beam which had ceafed burning, and threw himself on his knees before her. He forgot his pain. He thought only of fuccouring her. The nuns, approaching their dying companion, exclaimed, "It is fifter Henrietta !"

66

you

My fifter! oh Heaven! it is fhe! My fifter! it is indeed whom I behold!"

I held her in my arms. The young man, his face concealed by one of the hands of Henrietta, kneeled by her fide: he pronounced her name with a voice interrupted with fighs. The good prieft fpoke to him, but without being heard. I alfo pronounced the name of my fifter. I endeavoured to recal her to life. She at length opened her eyes; fhe fighed, the regarded the young man and me alternately.

My brother!" faid he with a dying voice. She preffed my hand; fhe carried that of the unknown to her heart; the held it there as if determined never to quit it.

"It is thee it is thee !-I fhall have the happiness of expiring in thy arms.-Corfange! my dear husband !-O my God! thou haft punished, yet rewarded me !"

The name of Corfange penetrated even to my heart. It made Monf. D'Ornance fhudder. He looked at the young man attentively. He had not quitted his pofture. His groans made us all tremble.

I approached him" Corfange! is it you?"

He made no reply. He drew his hand from me. This movement made him perceive Henrietta extended almoft without life; her eyes clofed, the palenefs of death upon her lips. He thought her dead. Sorrow drew from him a diftinct excla-mation. She is dead!-I have loft my Henrietta !-Let them now claim this unhappy wretch."

No more was necellary to Monf. D'Ornance." It is my fon's voice."

6

Corfange turned about with horror, endeavoured to rife, ftaggered, and fell with all his force, crying in unutterable agony, "My father --Behold the ftroke of my death!"

• Monf,