did not intend to portray any particular indi vidual, or Society' of individuals, I sincerely believe the picture I drew in my last number resembles many. If any great guns' of the law or 'canons' of the church can discover in it a resemblance of themselves, I am sorry not for myself, but for them. I shall however continue to prove my want of good manners, by persecuting folly and vice wherever I find them. They are common enemies, which ought to be detected and exposed, let them assume what shape they may. Folly is not less foolish because she appears dressed in a par son's gown, nor vice less detestable because she wears a lawyer's wig.

Jan. 16, 1807.

FOR THE POLYANTHOS.

CONTEMPLATOR....N°. 7.

Μελιγλώσσαν λοΐδων άνθεα,

THE object of the present number is to call the attention of our readers to a poem, which we are surprised to observe has excited far less curiosity and commendation than its real and intrinsick excellence ought to demand. For while multitudes of poetical works which now swarm in the regions of literature, baneful to the flowers of taste, are sought and read

with avidity, that truly excellent and original poem, The Village Curate, is passed by unnoticed and almost unknown. Of the author, the Rev. J. Hurdis, B. D. we know but little, save that he was Professor of Poetry in the univer sity of Oxford, and which alone may justify us in forming a high opinion of his talents. His first work, the one now before us, appeared anonymously in 1788, and was well received. Since then he has published an octavo volume of poems, which, though not equal in merit to his first production, yet display correct taste and superiour genius; and Sir Thomas More,' a tragedy, written in the genuine spirit of poetry. As a divine, he has also pub lished a few sermons, and critical remarks upon some parts of Genesis. The reader may perhaps recollect him as a correspondent of the poet of Weston, and will excuse us if we introduce an extract containing a compliment, not only honourable to the writer, but justly due to the merit of Mr. Hurdis.

I have always entertained,' says Mr. Cowper, and have occasionally avowed a great degree of respect for the abilities of the unknown author of The Village Curate; unknown at that time, but now well known, and not to me only, but many. For before I was favoured with your obliging letter, I knew your name, your place of abode, your profession, and that you had four sisters; all which I learned, not from your bookseller, nor any of

his connexions; you will perceive, therefore, that you are no longer an author incognito. The writer indeed of many passages that have fallen from your pen, could not long continue So. Let genius, true genius, conceal itself where it may, we may say of it as the young man in Terence of his beautiful mistress, Diu latere non potest."

It may perhaps be said, that this praise is rather the offspring of warm friendship than rigid criticism. But we can produce an opin ion that is decisive; the opinion of those, at whose bar every author is amenable, and who, though they severely condemn, those who ap pear before the publick without merit to claim its approbation, yet are willing when true gen ius appears, to bestow the highest applause.→→ The present,' says an English, reviewer in his remarks upon this poem, like every preceding age, abounds, in verse-makers; and the brethren of the trade, though they differ in some circumstances, have certainly much in common among them. One may possibly fin ish more neatly than his neighbour, but in general they collect together the same old ma terials, and work away with the same blunt in

struments.

Poets on the contrary, true poets, are very sparingly scattered; but when they do appear, they are easily distinguished from the scribbling herd. Fortunately the present author is enti, led to this distinction, He knows, the senti

ments of others, but he gives us his own. Instead of lamenting that there is little chance for originality, he is original; instead of unmeaning, though perhaps well measured lines, he presents us with a poem, where the sense is prominent and the language is expressive; and instead of dispiriting us by gloomy representations of misery which never existed, he exhibits a pleasant view of life, and, by rendering us contented with ourselves, fits us for bestowing happiness on others.'

Thus, without placing dependence upon our own opinion and judgment, are we able to bestow the praise of excellence upon this poem; and without indulging ourselves in the high strain of panegyrick and eulogy, can we venture to wonder that the work has received such little attention and applause from the literary world. As to the poem, it is descriptive, the plan simple, and the author, as he confesses, frequently rides his rambling Pegasus without a rein. But there is an originality, a purity of moral, and a beautiful yet manly simplicity, which pervades this work, and which cannot fail to interest and charm.

Of this work, the only copy we have been able to procure or even see is a most miserable one, printed at Newburyport. We therefore take the liberty of recommending it to our booksellers, while they are reprinting the po-etical productions of Strangford, Moore, Wal pole, &c. not to let the Village Curate languish

in obscurity. We can assure them it is an ob ject much more worthy the American press, one which will do more honour to their taste and judgment, and be a highly valuable press ent to the publick.

In our next number we shall present our readers with a few extracts.

FOR THE FOLYANTHOS..

AN ALECTA....No. III.

"Undique collatis membris."

ROBERT MERRY, Esq. A. M.

THIS gentleman was a member of the famous Della Cruscan Academy ; and although his poetry has been severely satirized by Mr. Gifford,, and although guilty of a false glitter, negligence and obscurity, yet his pretensions to poetical merit are often great and striking; while the spirit of liberty and benevolence which breathe through his writings seem ardent and sincere. His Poem "The Pains of Memory," has by some been preferred to the " Pleasures of Memory."-His pieces in the British Album have the greatest claim to distinction of any, found irthat work. As a proof of this, as well as nis great poetical talent, we refer the reader to those two excellent productions, "Diversity," and "Ambitious Vengeance."