the Doctor. Of his attainments in Greek and Roman literature it becomes not me to speak, when such a scholar as Dr. Parr has been most eloquent in their praise. I should observe that the MSS. of Dr. Askew were separately sold in 1781, and produced a very considerable sum. The Appendix to Scapula, published in an 8vo volume in 1789, was compiled from one of these MSS."

"In 1776 died John Ratcliffe, esq. of Bermondsey, a bibliomaniac of a very peculiar character. If he had contented himself with his former occupation, and frequented the butter and cheese, instead of the book, market-if he could have fancied himself in a brown peruke, and Russian apron, instead of an embroidered waistcoat, velvet breeches, and flowing periwig, he might, perhaps have enjoyed greater longevity; but, infatuated by the Caxtons and Wynkyn de Wordes of the West and Fletewode collections, he fell into the snare; and the more he struggled to disentangle himself, the more certainly did he become a victim to the disease."

"The Catalogue was collected with great judgment and expense, during the last thirty years of his life: comprehending a large and most choice collection of the rare old English black-letter, in fine preservation, and in elegant bindings, printed by Caxton, Letton, Machlinia, the anonymous St. Alban's Schoolmaster, Wynkyn de Worde, Pynson, Berthelet, Grafton, Day, Newberie, Marshe, Jugge, Whytchurch, Wyer, Rastell, Coplande, and the rest of the Old English Typographers: several missals and MSS. and two Pedigrees, on vellum, finely illuminated.-The titlepage then sets forth a specimen of these black-letter gems; among which our eyes are dazzled with a galaxy of Caxtons, Wynkyn de Wordes, Pynsons, &c. &c. The sale took place on March 27, 1776; although the year is unaccountably omitted by that renowned auctioneer, the late Mr. Christie, who disposed of them.-If ever there was a unique collection, this was one- -the very essence of Old Divinity, Poetry, Romances, and Chronicles! The articles were only 1675 in number; but their intrinsic value amply compensated for their paucity."

"I beg pardon of the manes of John Ratcliffe, esq.' for the very inadequate manner in which I have brought forward his collection to public notice. The ' memory of such a man ought to be dear to the black-letter-dogs' of the present day; for he had [mirabile dictu!] upwards of Thirty Caxtons!If I might

hazard a comparison between Mr. James West's and Mr. John Ratcliffe's collections, I should say that the former was more extensive, the latter more curious. Mr. West's, like a magnificent champagne, executed by the hand of Claude or Both, and enclosing mountains, meadows, and streams, presented to the eye of the beholder a scene at once luxuriant and fruitful: Mr. Ratcliffe's, like one of those confined pieces of scenery, touched by the pencil of Rysdael or Hobbima, exhibited to the beholder's eye a spot equally interesting, but less varied and extensive: the judgment displayed in both might be the same. The sweeping foliage and rich pasture of the former, could not, perhaps, afford greater gratification than the thatched cottage, abrupt declivities, and gushing streams. of the latter. To change the metaphor -Mr. West's was a magnificent repository, Mr. Ratcliffe's, a cabinet of curiosities. Of some particulars of Mr. Ratcliffe's life, I had hoped to have found gleanings in Mr. Nichols's Anecdotes of Bowyer; but his name does not even appear in the index; being probably reserved for the second forth-coming enlarged edition. Meanwhile, it may not be uninteresting to remark that, like Magliabechi, (vide p. 115, ante) he imbibed his love of reading and collecting, from the accidental possession of scraps and leaves of books. The fact is, Mr. Ratcliffe once kept a chandler's shop in the Borough; and, as is the case with all retail traders, had great quantities of old books brought to him to be purchased at so much per pound! Hence arose his passion for collecting the blackletter, as well as Stilton cheeses; and hence, by unwearied assiduity, and attention to business, he amassed a sufficiency to retire, and live, for the remainder of his days, upon the luxury of old English Literature!"

Two very illustrious Bibliomaniacs, the Hon. Tophum Beauclerk and the Rev. Thomas Crofts, come next on the

course. For these we refer to the volume, observing only that

"Beauclerk's Catalogue is a fair specimen of the analytico-bibliographical powers of Paterson: yet it must be confessed that this renowned champion of catalogue-makers shines with greater, and nearly perfect, splendor, in the collection of the Rev. Thomas Crofts-a collection, which, taking it for all in all,' I know not whether it be exceeded by any which this country has recorded The owner was a modest, careful, and in the shape of a private catalogue. retired, yet communicative." acutely sagacious bibliomaniac: learned,

We

We shall for the present dismiss the Bibliomania" with a remark suggested by an Occasional Correspondent:

"I think the ingenious Author has fallen into a mistake respecting the number of large-paper copies which were printed of the first edition of Grey's Hudibras. In p. 600 of Mr. Dibdin's book, he says, 'there were but twelve copies of the first and best edition of Dr. Grey's labours upon Hudibras printed upon largepaper.' I have now lying by me a Subscription copy of that work, containing a list of the subscribers, and in which those whose names are marked with

asterisks are stated to be subscribers for Copies on royal paper.' They amount in number (including duplicates) to one hundred and thirty one. Possibly there may have been a distinction between the large paper' copies alluded to by Mr. Dibdin, and the royal paper copies which I have just enumerated. If so, there must have been copies on three different sorts of paper. It is somewhat curious that one of these volumes was printed at Cambridge, and the other in London. I wait with impatience for the Reverend Gentleman's forth-coming publication, which is to be intituled 'The Gentleman's Library Companion.''

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

4. The Battles of Talavera. A Poem. Sixth Edition, corrected, with some Additions. 1810; 8vo. pp. 39. Murray. 5. The Battles of the Danube, and Barrosa. 1811; 8vo. pp. 87. Murray. These are the true Tyrtéan strains which invigorate the hearts of Englishmen, and inspire even the brave with additional courage.

In the first of these elegant Poems the Poet thus describes the British Army and their gallant commander: "Oh, for a blaze from heaven to light The wonders of that gloomy fight The guerdon to bestow, Of which the sullen envious night Bereaves the warrior's brow! Darkling they fight, and only know If chance has sped the fatal blow, Or, by the trodden corse below,

Or by the dying groan : Furious they strike without a mark, Save now and then the sulphurous spark Illumes some visage grim and dark,

That with the flash is gone! Promiscuous death around they send, Foe falls by foe, and friend by friend,

Heaped in that narrow plain. But, with the dawn, the victors view Ten gallant French the valley strew

For every Briton slain : They view with not unmingled prideSome anxious thoughts their souls divide, Their throbbing hopes restrain, A fiercer field must yet be tried, Hundreds of foes they see have died,

But thousands still remain. From the hill summit they behold, Tipped with the morning's orient gold, And swarming o'er the field, Full fifty thousand muskets bright, Led by old warriors trained to fight,

And all in conquest skilled: With twice their number doomed to try The unequal war, brave souls! they cry, 'Conquer we may, perhaps must die,

But never, never yield.' Thus ardent they: but who can tell, In Wellesley's heart what passions swell, What cares must agitate his mind, What wishes, doubts, and hopes combined,

Midst cold allies, in foreign lands, Whom with his country's chosen bands.

Outnumb'ring foes surround;
From whom that country's jealous call,
Demands the blood, the fame of all;
To whom 'twere not enough to fall,

Unless with victory crowned.
Oh heart of honour, soul of fire,
Even at that moment fierce and dire,
Thy agony of fame!

When Britain's fortune dubious hung,
And France tremendous swept along,
In tides of blood and flame:
Even while thy genius and thy arm
Even at that moment, factious spite
Retrieved the day and turned the storm,
And envious fraud essayed to blight

The honours of thy name.
He thinks not of them:

height

from that

He views the scene of future fight,
And, silent and serene, surveys
Down to, the plain where Teïo stays,
The woods, the streams, the mountain
ways,

Each dell and sylvan hold:
And all his gallant chiefs around
Observant watch, where o'er the ground
His eagle glance has rolled.

"The calumniators of Sir Arthur Wellesley have been so industrious in publishing their malignity, that it is unnecessary to recal to the public observation any particular instance of it. In reading their base absurdities, one cannot but recollect the expression of Marshal Villars (I think it was) to Lewis XIV. 'Sire, je vais combattre vos ennemis, & je vous laisse au milieu des miens.'-Sir Arthur, much worse treated than M. de Villars, says nothing about it, but beats his country's enemies, and despises his own."

Few

Few words he spake, or needed they,
Where to condense the loose array,

Or where the line unfold:
They saw, they felt, what he would say,
And the best order of that day,

It was his eye that told.
Prophetic, to each chief he shows,
On wing or centre, where the foes

Will pour their fury most,
Points out what portion of the field
To their advance 'twere good to yield,
And what must not be lost.
Away, away! the adverse power

Marshals, and moves his host.
'Tis come, 'tis come, the trial hour,
Each to his destined post.
And when you charge, be this your ery,
Britons strike home, and win or die,

The grave or victory!'"

We have classed these Poems together, as the second is dedicated to the Author of the first (Mr. Croker, Secretary to the Admiralty), and follows it passibus æquis.

"The just celebrity and extensive cireulation of the Battles of Talavera,' induced the Author of the following Poems to try how far the sanguinary conflicts on the banks of the Danube, upon a similar plan, might prove suceessful. He has been as attentive as possible to the facts related in the various official papers upon those events, and sincerely hopes the present attempt may not prove altogether undeserving of public patronage.”

There are many splendid passages in the "Battles of the Danube;" but we shall select one from the "Fight

of Barrosa :"

"Well sung, sweet Minstrel! such a lay
Were worthy of the present day ;-
Strains so sublime might well adorn
The feats of that auspicious morn,

That saw the cowards yield;
When Britain, pressing on their rear,
Triumphant wav'd her azure spear,
And blew her trumpets far and near,
Across the smoky field.
SENT. MAG. January, 1812.

Skill'd in the science of the Muse,
What Poet's hand shall dare refuse,
For those that on Chiclana fell,
To sweep the deep sonorous shell,
Pure as the one that sweetly told,

How Wellesley fought the rebel-Gaul,
Experienc'd, artful, wise and bold,
When loud and dread the thunder roll'd
Round Talavera's purple wall?
And surely those that fell to-day,
Deserye as sweet, as warm a lay-
As chaste a zeal-as bright a tear
As ever grac'd the warrior's bier ;-
A voice as pure and unconfin'd
As ever told the sorrowing mind,

Or for the wretched sung!
Then, Croker, seize the vaulted lyre,
And glowing with the warrior's fire,
Record the tumult dark and dire

That round Barrosa rung!
Sing, Minstrel, sing how, fierce and bold,
The Britons seiz'd with iron hold,
In spite of Gaul's gigantic host,
Each favouring height and shelving post,
Where now she plied her fury most,

Still resolutely fierce; And how they hurl'd, triumphant still, Their sullen vengeance from the hill,

Her column'd horse to pierce : And how they reach'd, with solemn tread,

The red-cross blazing o'er the dead,

The 'vantage ground;-and how, Down, down the steep, with rapid feet They hurl'd their glittering blades to

meet

The re-ascending foe!

"And let us hear the cymbal-clang That down the distant valley rang,The bugle's echo, shrill and deep, That's answer'd from the mountainsteep,

The cannon's loud and measur'd roar,
Resounding o'er the field of gore,
The squadron's swift and hollow tread,-
The moans of those that vainly fled,-
The clash of bayonet and steel,-
The trumpet's bold and martial peal,-
The mingling shouts and horrid cries

That rent the crimson air,
Where, thro' the smoke, the sabres rise
A glittering forest to the skies,
To fill the wanton sacrifice

Of Ruin and Despair!
And let us hear the charging tramp
Along the blood-bewilder'd camp;-
And faintly see, remotely flying,

The pennons of the Gaul,
Where, o'er the dead and o'er the dying,
His giant horsemen fall!
Tell how they fought and how they fled,
And how their trodden corses bled,
And how the relics of the dead,

Lay scatter'd me'r the plain ;

While

While Britain, leaning on her shield,
Remain'd the mistress of the field,

For Liberty and Spain !`
Awake, awake the slumb'ring fire
That lives along the martial lyre,
Sketch with a bold and rapid hand

The multifarious scene, Where columns close, and lines expand, And Slaughter waves her iron brand

Swift rushing o'er the green: Weave in the loom each horrid form That rides upon the battle-storm, The sullen traits that dimly gleam Before the sulphur's azure stream, When rank on rank commingling fall, And devastation shrouds them all. Weave in the loom the tears--the woes That many a parent feels and shows, The sorrowing hearts of maidens fair, That weep and hope and yet despair, The feelings sweet that Nature owns, The shrieks-the pray'rs-the stifled

Auspicious thro' the battle-gloom,
Of joys that Fancy loves to scan
In this eventful scene of man,
And all the anticipated bliss,
Felt in a gloomy sphere like this!
Oh, weave them all, for Sorrow's eye
With rapture views them all pass by,
She feels at every pulse the fire
That glows upon thy darling lyre,
And, feeling, owns that none so well
As thou, can strike the sounding shell!
Then, why forbear?-is there no theme
To lure thee to Castalia's stream?
No passions sweet that yet controul
Thy martial and exalted soul,
And prompt thee, in their gen'rous rage,
To please, once more, th' admiring age,
Whose approbation fondly proves,
How much thy warrior-song it loves,
That age which on thy brow has plac'd
The chaplet of superior taste,
And on thy offspring fixt the die
Of pleasing immortality?”

6. The Battle of Albuera, a Poem; with an Epistle dedicated to Lord Welling ton. 8vo. Hatchard,

AGAIN the martial strain resounds; and again we must award the meed of praise to the Author of a Poem; which (as an able Critic has observed), though unequal, is in some parts exceedingly spirited, and de. monstrates considerable talents.

* British Critic, Nov. 1811, p. 522.

"On scenes of blood thrice rose the suž
Thro' vernal skies his race to run;
And twice at eve-tide in the West
On scenes of blood had sunk to rest;
When the third night the Vester hymn
Thro' closing twilight's shadows dim,
In gratitude to Heaven arose,
For victory o'er the ruthless foes;
Then, Wellington, thy triumph came,
Then cloudless shone thy warrior fame;
When to the Virgin mother low,
The Lusitanian patriots bow;
To thank her that yet once again,
Tho' borne o'er many a ruined plain,
They breathed the air of liberty!
Mingled was many a prayer for thee;
Whose valiant hand was stretch'd to
save,

Een on the brink of Freedom's grave."

7. Pure and undefiled Religion. A Ser mon, preached before the Governors of the Scotish Hospital in London, of the Foundation of King Charles II. 1665 and 1676, and re-incorporated by King George III. 1775; on the 24th of November, being the Sunday preceding their Anniversary Meeting on St. Andrew's Day, 1811. By Robert Young, D. D. M. R. I. Minister to the Scots Church, London Wall; and Chaplain to the Scotish Corporation. 8vo. pp 52. J. M. Richardson.

AFTER a very animated exposition and illustration of James i. 27: Dr. Young proceeds to describe the origin and present state of the Charity for which he is an able advocate.

"The objects which it seeks to relieve are the AGED AND DESERVING POORthose who, having never acquired any parochial settlement in England, are consequently shut out from all claims upon the parishes for support - those who, struggling with poverty, infirmity, and misfortune, are unwilling to tell their sorrows to the world, are unable to work, and to beg who are ashamed.—【 have seen the misery which the bounty of the Society has relieved, and the expressive gratitude which it has awakened. It is a painful, yet a pleas ing duty, to enter into the house of woe But, to know the misery to which I now allude, it is necessary to be seen. I might conduct you to the cheerless garret, to which they who had seen brighter and better days, had retired for a little shelter, before they went hence, and were no more. The apart ment was neat, as far as neatness was possible in circumstances of such distress They were both far advanced in the vale of years. They had outlived all their friends, and all their labour; yet the father of one of them had, in his life-time,