To bathe your swords in fruitless blood forbear,
Tell them that Afric's savage hordes can spare.
Though your usurping lords no mercy shew'd,
When Alexandria's streets with blood o'erflow'd.
Restrain your vengeance, check the crimson tide,
And yield that mercy to her sons denied.

Britons, the CRISIS of your fate draws near,
Exalt your standards, grasp th' avenging spear;
In radiant arms indissolubly join'd,

Be firm, and brave the pow'rs of earth combin'd.

The perpetual efforts of France, in every age, to crush her to generous rival, BRITAIN, as well as the striking contrast, in character, of the natives of each country, are accurately and feelingly depicted nor shall we be afraid of wearying our readers by adding the lines immediately following, that take a survey of the triumphs obtained by Britons, when fighting on terra firma, over her vaunting foe.

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But, are there dastards so dreprav'd and base

pant for peace with this detested race!

Go, bid the everlasting flame descend;

With Neptune's waters strive that flame to blend;
Bid hungry tigers, prowling wild for food,
Crouch with the tameness of the fleecy brood
When vanquish'd Nature thus thy skill shall bend,
Then hope to make perfidious Gaul thy friend!
For
ages who hath join'd each daring foe,
That aim'd thy tow'ring greatness to o'erthrow;
Beneath her yoke thy stubborn neck to bend,
And from thy grasp the ocean's sceptre rend;
Of civil discord who the flames have fann'd,
When mad rebellion rag'd around the land;
Who fir'd her torches on Columbia's shore,
And from its parent stock an empire tore.
What though no soft seductive arts ye boast,
Rough like your native clime, and rugged coast,
Ye glory in the nobler arts of truth,

And manlier passions fire your vig'rous youth;
High beat their breasts with thirst of nobler fame,

Warm with unsullied honour's vestal flame,

Virtue is theirs, the substance, not the show,

And theirs, fair Freedom! theirs thy genuine glow;
Courage, in battle, like the bolt of Jove,

In victory gentle as the shaft of love!

These are your bulwark; and, when these shall fall,
Britain shall crouch the abject slave of Gaul.

tain.

Have you forgotten Cressy's glorious field,

Where the black EDWARD rais'd th' unconquer'd shield;
Singly her whole embodied pow'r withstood,

And rush'd to glory through a sea of blood?

In vain three sov'reigns, brave in arms, display
The gorgeous ensigns of imperial sway;
Dreadful, as raging storm, or wasting fire,
The dauntless son of an undaunted sire
Impetuous thunders through the myriad band,
Strikes the bright sceptre from the palsied hand,
The lofty ostrich from Bohemia tears,
And bids it grace Britannia's princely heirs,

Does Poictier's day no rapt'rous thrill afford,
Where, with still loftier wing, his genius soar'd';
When Glory's self his conqu'ring legions led,
And with three crowns adorn'd his laurel'd head.
Sublimely borne, and blazing through the sky,
Before him see her banner'd pageants fly;
See at his feet her captive monarch bow,
And wail the jewels ravish'd from his brow!
An army with the pangs of famine torn,
With wasting flux, and lengthen'd vigils worn,
When Agincourt its iron front display'd,
With no base fears great HENRY's soul dismay'd.
Like raging lions bursting from their toils,
While Glory holds aloft the dazzling spoils,
From ardent valour snatching health's bright glow,
His furious bands rush headlong on the foe,
Beat down the tow'ring helm, the threat'ning lance,
And lay in dust th' aspiring pride of France.
As down th' historic page the wond'ring Muse,
Through rolling years, the brilliant theme pursues;
A thousand Agincourts in glory rise,

A thousand HENRYS stalk before my eyes,

A thousand EDWARDS, bursting from the shades,

Toss their proud plumes, and wave their gleaming blades.

Mr. Maurice next proceeds to detail the naval victories of Bri

But, oh Britannia! what immortal strain

Shall paint thy triumphs on the boundless main;

Who sing the heroes that, from age to age,

Through ev'ry clime have bid thy thunder rage;

"From burning realms, where southern deeps resound,"

To where eternal frosts the pole surround!

After alluding to the immortal exploits, on the ocean, of HOWARD, DRAKE, and many other gallant admirals, of elder time, he presents

VOL. XVI.

us with the fine picture that succeeds, in which the GUARDIAN ANGEL OF BRITAIN is represented as descending on the bay of Biscay, and rending the naval wreath for ever from her Gallic rival. 'Mid threatning rocks, and waves in mountains roll'd, Great HAWKE contending with the storm behold, Nor rocks, nor roaring surge, nor madd'ning wind, From its firm centre shake his stedfast mind:

On fate's tremendous verge the line he forms,

To France more dreadful than a thousand storms!
In vain their broken line the Gauls oppose,
While, as the furious conflict fiercer glows,
The British cannon raging, tier o'er tier,
Flame on their van, and thunder on their rear.
Wild as the whirlwinds, that impetuous sweep
The raging surface of the troubled deep,
The Gallic vessels o'er the surge are toss'd,

Or swell the pomp of Britain's victor host!

'Twas then, while heav'n with angry tempests lower'd,
And victory on HAWKE's proud standard tower'd,
'Twas then from heaven, the brilliant deed to crown,
BRITANNIA'S ANGEL rush'd in light'ning down,
From France her naval wreath for ever tore,

And stamp'd to dust on Biscay's stormy shore !

We shall defer the conclusion of our remarks on this, and some other poems in the volume before us, till a future month; and we strongly recommend it to Mr. M. whose patriotism is of the most glowing nature, to publish this poem separately at the present important CRISIS, and we think it should be publicly read at the head of every regiment and armed association in the kingdom.

N. B. Since the above article was written, Mr. M. has republished THE CRISIS, with additions, which may now be had separately at Mr. White's.

The History of the Revolutions of Russia to the Accession of Catherine the First; including a concise Review of the Manners and Customs of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. By Henry Card, A. B. Pemb. Cell. Oxon. Longman and Rees. 1803. THE immense power of Russia and its intimate connexion with the political system of Europe, render every information relative to that empire a subject of very considerable importance. With its exalted rank among nations almost every one is acquainted, but into its origin, early vicissitudes, and gradual progress to its present high fortune, few indeed among men of distinguished literary talents have thought it necessary to enquire; or, if they have, with the result of their labours the public has been unacquainted.

The present work is happily calculated to dispel the darkness in which the infancy of Russian greatness has been wrapt, while the author very judiciously avoids all details, either too minute for the province of history, or too fabulous and vague to be accredited. All the memorable transactions which have led to seven revolutions, from the latter end of the ninth century to the accession of Peter the Great, he recapitulates with a clearness and precision, both as to their causes and effects, which evince a rare depth of research, regulated by a sound judgment. But it is not to the bare narrative of facts, and their immediate consequences that his labours have been confined; he delineates in strong colours the characters of the principal actors in these rude scenes of turbulence and anarchy, and in a political as well as in a philosophical point of view, his reflections display a just knowledge of the human heart, and convey many instructive lessons.

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From an attentive perusal of the volume before us, and a faithful comparison of its most prominent passages with the best sources of authority, we feel ourselves justified in saying, that Mr. Card has spared no pains, neglected no channel of information, which could qualify him for the arduous task he undertook to perform. We have not had, for many years, any history in which more useful erudition is introduced, almost uniformly illustrative of the grand questions under consideration; while the notes, which are uncommonly numerous, testify the extensive researches of the writer, and abound in matter no less curious than interesting. He has also been enabled, by judicious collation, and reference to authorities before little known, to detect the errors of preceding writers, and to expose some remarkable mistakes. But above all, the author is entitled to peculiar praise, for the manner in which he slightly notices, or skilfully compresses, circumstances that might be thought too minute and trivial for the dignity of history, and directs the attention to those important events, whether resulting from design, passion, or accident, which decide the fate of nations. He wisely consigns to oblivion all wild and flimsy traditions, and abstains from those frivolous inquiries, that gratify while they perplex the mind of the fanciful and credulous. To all such persons, who, with Nero, may be desirous of knowing,-" Quæ mater Hecubæ, quod Achillis nomen inter virgines fuisset, quid Sirenes cantare solita?" we can say they will be lamentably disappointed in their perusal of the Revolutions of Russia. The truth of the events he relates is generally established, not on single, but concurrent testimonies, and he re

gulates his assent or dissent by the best rules of evidence, with respect to what is authentic or what is probable.

Mr. Card commences his history with the introduction of the Varagians into the republic of the Novgorodians, about the year 862, which led to the foundation of monarchy, by their leader Ruric.

Respecting the final establishment of Christianity in Russia, by Vladimir, in 988, we are furnished with many curious circumstances; and this era is the more worthy of notice, as it may be truly considered the beginning of Russian civilization. The means to which Vladimir had recourse, for his own conversion, and that of his people, to christianity, were not a little extraordinary, as they were altogether contrary to the new faith of which he professed himself the suitor and champion. He disdained to solicit from the Greeks the assistance of the ministers of religion, whom he wished to have in his dominions for the instruction of the inhabitants, and resolved to carry them off by force of arms. Having, with this design, laid siege to the city of Cherson, at the head of a very numerous army, he made himself master of it, and transported into Russia all the abbots, priests, images, relics, holy books, and sacred vessels, as the reward of his pious zeal, and the certain pledges of his own and his people's salvation. Notwithstanding this singular proof of attachment to Christianity, which was manifested by the slaughter of its votaries, and the captivity of its ministers, Vladimir derived from its doctrines the greatest benefits. We learn that, for a considerable time before his death, ferocity and revenge were banished from his heart, and replaced by the mild precepts of Christian charity. Even at this early period, such was the terror inspired by the Russian name, that Vladimir compelled, by his threat of marching against Constantinople, the reigning emperors, Bazil and Constantine, to give him their sister, the Princess Anne, in marriage.

The character of this barbarian is drawn with great energy by the author.

"His virtues and vices, his reason and his passions, did not mix themselves by a nice gradation of tints, but exhibited a foul and sudden dissimilitude. There the blackest, there the most shining colours; and both represented more striking by their nearness. Subtle, rapacious, and unfeeling, yet open, liberal, and compassionate. At the same time that he so shamefully bedewed his hands in the blood of Rognolode and his children, his rude generosity would prompt him to feast his indigent subjects under a tent, and to appoint carriages for the purpose of conveying relief to those whom sickness confined to their houses. In action, he was adventurous and indefatigable; in counsel timid and