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I may proceed in safety, for I am unobserved by all, except such wretches as are too much occupied by their own misery to regard me. “Those that mingle reason with your passion, “Must be content to think you old.”— Those who do not resign their feelings to passionate complaints, but correct the influence of those complaints with a due mixture of reason, must be satisfied with imputing them to the infirmity and waywardness of old age. “I will be the pattern of all patience, “I will say nothing.” Silence adds great sublimity to distress: this Dryden knew; when describing the sorrow of the Duke of York, at the death of his royal brother, he said, “Horror in all its pomp was there, “Mute and magnificent, without a tear.” &
‘You have seen, “Sunshine and rain at once—her smiles and tears “Were like a better day.” This passage has not been satisfactorily explained : it is, probably, corrupt:—the quarto reads, “better way.” Dr. Warburton's emendation appears the most plausible, “a wetter May.” I wish there were any authority for an April day, which would be exactly congruous, and is a simile so applied by Otway. - —“the beauteous Belvedera came weeping forth, “Shining thro' tears, like April suns in showers, “That labour to o'ercome the clouds that load them.”
“And dizzy'tis, to cast one's eyes solow !"
Most readers, I believe, will concur with Addison in the general encomium he has pronounced on this speech; and “the poverty of that writer's wit,” in the instance quoted by Dr. Johnson, would be almost overlooked, had it not instigated the learned and acute editor, to a false and disingenuous remark. If the Doctor (to use his own words on another occasion) had been in quest of truth, he would plainly perceive the difference between a real object of terror, and a fictitious one. The objection, perhaps, might stand, if we could suppose the speaker to be really impressed with the terrors of the precipice which he is only artfully describing; but as Edgar had made a plausible representation, to deceive his father, the Doctor seems determined to play a similar trick on his confiding
RETURN OF WAR.
Hark! 'tis the cannon's horrid roar
Scarce had the soldier and the tar
Scarce had the drum's discordant sound
The sword scarce sheath'd from bloody fight,
So—rous’d to vengeance—should the Gallic foe
With kindred flames each patriot breast shall glow,
Then, when for all that life endears, they pay Their thanks, and grateful own thy verse prevail'd; Britons to thee shall raise this votive lay! “The bard succeeded, where the statesman fail’d.” J. A. • At the present important Crisis, it would be unpardonable in us to omit recom
mending to the serious perusal of our readers, this animated poem, as one of the best written, and best timed productions, that ever issued from the British press.
Ite, Rime dolente, al duro sasso
BY THE LADY, AUTHOR OF THE PRECEDING SERIES.
Of journeying through this desolated Waste.
I trace her scatter'd leaves” which guide my sight:
And to the silent Tomb my progress haste. * *
In hope, though now uncheer'd by her mild ray, | It soon shall meet me in the realms of Light.
S. W. L.
18 Jul. 1803. *In allusion to the Laurel.
---- - ---- - .* - SONNET,
Occasioned by the preceding having been written on the obitual Day of Petrarch.”
Lov'd Songstress! who on PETRARch's parting Day,