All listlessly-within my breast, On the sloe bush the Linnet swung, "Oh! 'mid a scene so fair, could love All tearful, or the vow that trembles in a Have charms for me-No! no, I'm free- Some inaccuracies of language occur in this volume-as, in the last extractwinded for wound. Wallace is called Wallace the Wight, or the Wallace Wight, or Wight of Ellerslie. What ever feeling Mr. Finlay may associate with this word, it has been so long appropriated to hudibrastic poetry, that most of his readers will find it ludicrous. If he will reflect a moment he will find that he has sometimes used it without any meaning at all. If we have particularized the faults rather than the merits of this volume, it is because the faults deserve to be point ed out in deference to the merits. ART. XXVIII. Love Letters to my Wife; written in the year 1789. By JAMES WOODHOUSE. Vol. I. 12mo. pp. 169. THESE Letters, written after a connubial union of twenty-eight years, do credit to the feelings, as well of the wife to whom they are addressed, as of the author himself. Each, it is evident, has shared the happiness and alleviated the cares of the other; and in very humble life they have both illustrated the effects of domestic harmony, by an example which the titled libertine may prófitably envy. Mr. Woodhouse satirizes the fashionable vices and follies of the great, and not the least useful part of his moral seems to be to make those in a low sphere of life contented with their situation His verse is certainly not very nervous or highly polished; and we seriously ad vise the author not to publish a second volume of these Love Letters, until be can fairly anticipate its success by a suf ficient sale of the present. Mr. W. is the Woodstock shoe-maker, whose poem entitled Norbury Park, we reviewed in our last volume. ART. XXIX. Village Scenes, the Progress of Agriculture, and other Poems. By T. BACHELOR. 12mo. pp. 138. MR. BACHELOR is by occupation a farmer, and tenant under the Duke of Bedford. He was taught the rudiments of learning at a school at Ampthill, but appears to be entirely indebted to his own exertions for the progress which he has made in the art of literary composition. His "Village Scenes" was written before the publication of Bloomfield's "Farmer's Boy," and, from the similarity of subject, and the resemblance in the circumstances of the authors, the reader will be naturally induced to estimate the merit of the former by a comparison with the latter. But though Mr. Bachelor's poems exhibit, for the most part, a correct and flowing versification, unaf. fected sentiments, and a minute and ac curate delineation of natural objects, yet they are unquestionably far inferior in merit to the productions of Robert Bloomfield. We look upon the volume before us, however, with interest, as tend ing to excite emulation and a sensibility to the charms of literature, in a very important, and as yet, very uncultivated class of English society. The following extract is a fair speci men of Mr. B.'s poetical abilities. "Lo! the wild heath, where starv'ling flocks have stray'd 'Mid scatter'd fern to seek a shrivel'd blade, Where, hid in many a subterranean den, The furry people shunn'd the view of mer Lost are its fleet inhabitants, its flocks There of the plow has turn'd the glowing No longer pine o'er ling and arid rocks. sand, The spade, the pick-axe, smooth'd the rugs ged land, Whose are yon roofs that rise beside the hill? Whose bumble names those decent mansions fill? What, though nor stone, nor brick the walls sustain, Nor slate nor tile, avert the falling rain, Bless'd with all joys, that ever bless'd the poor, He views the cypher figur'd o'er his door, And breathes, when slaves and bigot minds defame, A grateful sigh to gen'rous Russel's name." Lord Bishop of Dromore; occasioned by read- With nature's witching minstrelsy: Nine and forty stanzas of such trash and tinsel as this, are printed in folio with as little taste as propriety. ART. XXXI. Fables on Subjects connected with Literature; imitated from the Spanish of Don Tomas de Triarte, by JOHN BELFOUR, Esq. 12mo. PP. 164. THESE imitations are, without exreption, the very worst we ever saw. Mr. Belfour either has not understood he original, or has made the most unarrantable alterations, as the following ecimen will prove. "The Bear, the Ape, and the Hog. "A Bear, by whom a trav'ling train A scanty pittance used to gain, Pad up with vanity and pride, The art of others would deride, And thought as he had been in France, No one like him could skip and dance. Rous'd by some sprightly notes he rear'd His pond rous form, nor censure fear'd; But call'd the ape, to mark at will, His might, agility, and skill; When lo! the ape, a sturdy friend, Refus'd his antics to commend. The bear at this took great offence. And call'd it spleen, and want of sense, Daring him boldly, face to face, To caper with such air and grace; Nay, challeng'd all the lookers on, o do the feats that he had done! Amaz'd all stood and mute; at length servile hog, who knew his strength, dinir d his steps, his shape, and mien, od swore such skill he ne'er had seen. On hearing this, the stately bear Assum'd a more important air, And raising high his shaggy crest, Aloud the populace addrest. "Sirs, when the surly ape refus'd "To praise my parts, I own, I mus'd, "Lest him more skilful you might deem, "And me but great, in self esteem; "Yet since the hog-in merit's cause, "Has honour'd me with his applause, "His words have fix'd my future fame, "And dance I will, though fools may blame." Ye, who in sense and reason's spite, To scribble verse will still delight! Deep on each warm poetic breast Be this important rule imprest: If those whom taste and genius bless, Whose truth, whose learning, all confess, Your works with judgment should abuse, Or with cool apathy peruse, Mistrust the efforts of your muse. But, if by power or influence aw'd, Fools, to feed vanity, applaud; To Pindus' height forbear to soar, And spur your Pegasus no more." Compare this with the translation of the same fable, published some years ago, by Mr. Southey. "Some greater brute had caught a Bear, Conceited now, as praise he sought, Come-come-all prejudice is wrong, A Hog was by the place, Bruin, tho' out in his pretence, Enough, he cries, grown sad; Thus he who gives his idle song The reader may judge for himself whether Mr. Belfour has spoilt this fable from ignorance or from presumption; from not understanding it, or from thinking that he could improve it. A bad poet deserves more compassion than a bad translator, for he injures no reputation but his own, and suicide is 2 lighter offence than murder. ART. XXXII. Poems, Tales, Odes, Sonnets, Translations from the British, &c. Et. ; RICHARD LLWYD. Author of Beaumaris Bay, Gayton Wake, e. 12mo. pp. 210. WE cannot flatter Mr. Llwyd with the hope that these poems will have many charms for those who were not born among the Cambrian hills. The allusions to the history and antiquities of Wales are so crowded, that every other couplet would be unintelligible without the assistance of a note. These latter are biographical, antiquarian, and topographical, as occasion requires. Some of the translations from the ancient British have spirit, particularly we think the "Ode of the Months," from Gwi. lim Ddu, of Arvon, bard to Sir Gryffydd Llwyd, whose magnanimity and heroism, and patriotic virtues, are justly celebrated by the grateful bard. A few lines written on a view of Snowdon, from the New Inn of Capel Cerrig, afford as favourable a specimen as any we can select of our author's original composition. "Father of hills! I greet thy friendly face, The last best shelter of thy country's race; The smile, that led them to thy sinewy arms, Where nature revels in unvarnished charms. fell. Now hear, from heights sublime, the happ:: Enjoy the social triumph of to-day! And chearful plenty follow where he leads. meet United nations crowding to thy feet." ART. XXXIII. The Triumph of Music, a Poem; in six Cantos. By WILL HAYLEY, Esq. 4to. pp. 148. THE fable of this poem is as follows: Venusia the daughter of Donado, a Venetian senator, among other accomplishments cultivates a talent for music, in which she is instructed by Lucilio, a man of genius and refine ment, handsome and not old, but sunk in so profound a melancholy by the loss of his wife and only daughter, that the sagacious father never suspects the pe sibility of his feeling or inspiring a pa sion hostile to his ambitious views, which destine Venusia to be the bride of aged but wealthy senator. But shall calculate the force of music ar pity? On the first mention of the odi old senator, the affrighted fair on warned she says in a vision, flings be self into the arms of the music-master, who had but just hinted his passion, marries him almost instantly, and flies with him to the neighbourhood of Milan, where they hope to conceal themselves from the rage of Donado. The amiable father, having discovered their retreat, dispatches two assassins, to rid him of his son-in-law. Fortunately these ruffians too are gifted with an ear for music, and having concealed themselves in a private chapel, to perpetrate the murder, are so touched with a kind of religious rondeau, played and sung by Lucilio, that they fall at his feet, confess their design, and beg his forgiveness. After this, the tender pair hasten to take refuge with a melancholy man, who has imposed on himself a vow to shun all human society, and who, without ever seeing them, supplies them with all the comforts and luxuries of life. The implacable Donado comes in disguise, and makes an attempt on Lucilio's life; the recluse observes and seizes him, an explanation takes place, and it appears that Venusia is the daughter, not of Donado, but of the recluse. The young couple forgive the murderous designs of the old man with the best grace in the world, sing a song or two, and all is well and all are happy! How far the execution of this piece is worthy of the design, we proceed to show-the story is told in heroic verse, but a great number of songs and sonnets are introduced, to "relieve the monotony of heroic rhyme," or to empty the portfolio of the author. The exquisite strains which captivate the heart of the fair one, are these: "SHOULD a mortal, rais'd in vision Bliss of angels! thou art mine. It is pity that we are not favoured with the tune: this must surely have pos The rondeau of sessed great merit. Their being to retain ; Without the help of God, On which mankind rely: And even nature die Beneath annihilation's nod, Without the help of God!" After the confession and pardoning of If to his zeal such honours are allow'd, Surely this insipid sentimental stuff is rather expressive of a want of all moral feeling, or a desire to curry favour by false and servile professions, than of the generous placability of a noble mind, or the meek forgiveness of a christian! Merely to describe a consistently excel lent character, requires a correctness of principle and elevation of soul which does not fall to the lot of every writer, even of hymns and spiritual songs. The conclusion of the following hymn sung by Venusia, appears to us absolutely shocking. "Nor dazzling pomp, nor golden store, That raise the world's too eager vow, Humbly I crave, from sovereign power Ye will not murmur if my story pause, above, To see my father's face Glow with paternal grace, While, justly zealous in devotion's cause, And, as the face of God, with guardian Blest, if her tender piety imparts love," Twenty four pages of hymns and son. nets are thus forced into the service. She (Venusia) a daily pleasure took The hallow'd rhymes of each poetic friend: Nor did she shrink herself; but kindly deck'd "Mild youth, and tenderness! for whom Your praise my wish, my purpose, your delight! Its own pure spirit to congenial hearts !" Of incomplete sentences, aukward ellipses, false quantities, " needless alexandrines," and affected expressions, we should produce several examples did not the uniform feebleness of this perfor criticism which seems to imply a consi mance preclude that kind of particular derable degree of general approbation. We should likewise remonstrate against for a quarto pamphlet, containing only the exorbitant charge of half-a-guinea 148 pages, and printed in a style by no means splendid, did we apprehend that any very large portion of our readers would be likely to suffer by the exaction. ART. XXXIV. The Lay of the last Minstrel; a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 4to. pp. 320. THE researches of Mr. Scott into the feudal times, and his exertions in bringing to light the remains of Scottish poetry, are well known to most of our readers. He has also, in his former publications, given such specimens of his own talents as to convince the public that it is not probable he will easily find more elegant entertainment for them, than what he can provide from the stores of his own genius. It is with pleasure, therefore, that we see he has given scope to his fancy in the elegant poem before us; the peculiar plan of which we cannot better explain than in the words of the author's preliminary advertisement. "The poem now offered to the public is intended to illustrate the customs and manners which anciently prevailed on the borders of England and Scotland. The inhabitants, living in a state, partly pas toral, and partly warlike, and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry, were often engaged in scenes highly sus ceptible of poetical ornament. As the description of scenery and manners was more the object of the author, than a combined and regular narrative, the plan of the ancient metrical romance was adopt ed, which allows greater latitude in this respect than uld be consistent with the dignity c a regular poem. The same model affe ded other facilities, as it permits an occasional alteration of popu. measure, which, in some degree, autho- The Minstrel was infirm and old ; |