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Sir William Jones.

Genius with Science and with Judgment meet
And form in him a character complete.
Throughout his isle the candidates for fame
Bow with just reverence at his mighty name,
When he the Poet's life sublimely draws,
The world grows wise from his poetic laws.
Whene'er he rambles thro' the haunts of men,
Instruction follows his impressive pen.
Whene'er he wakes, the music of his lyre
The world must honour, Genius must admire.
When he in oriental numbers sings
Invention wafts him on her boldest wings.
On Jones's * birth the Arts and Graces smild,
And Genius mark'd him for her darling child.

are fine satires; and bis Irene, if not calculated for the stage, will please in the closet. His Prefaces, to his Dictionary and to his Shakespeare, exceed all performances of the kind in the English language. Biography has been copious in the praise of this great man, but it can never do him more than justice. His life, and essays on his genius and works, have been written by Boswell, Anderson, and Murphy: The last of these authors has given the best critical view of his writings.

* Sir William Jones was a prodigy of genius, and of erudition. He was a favourite of what is commonly called Fortune, and was distinguished for his personal elegance and attractiveness of manners. He wrote, and spoke fluently many languages, and merely considered as a Linguist

Grandeur necessary to Invention.

The eastern worlds to him their lore unfold
And Mecca * gives her glittering rolls of gold.
Both strength and elegance adorn his style,
And flows his Muse more fruitful than the Nile, 90
In his sweet song Arcadia blooms again,
Breathes its perfumes and waves its yellow grain.

Subjects of grandeur, beautiful or new
Invention loves, on these she bends her view,
These her great plans, her loftiest thoughts inspire,
From these she catches an increasing fire.

his attainments were astonishing. He had already become eminent as a lawyer when he accepted his honourable appointment in the East, from which he derived a yearly income of forty or fifty thousand pounds sterling. His Asiatic Researches have enlightened the world, and furnished additional evidences to the Christian religion. His Dissertations on the Poetry of the East, and on the Arts called Imitative, discover nice and accurate critical discernment. His translation of the Speeches of Isæus, tbrows light upon the practice of the ancient law. As a poet his merit is unquestionably great. His diction is nervous, and his imagery splendid. His versification has the sweetness and correctness of Pope. His Solima,---Palace of Fortune --Seven Fountains ----Arcadia and Laura ----are enchanting performances.

* The Moallakat, or the seven Arabian poems of Muriolkais, of Tarafa, of Zohair, of Libeid, of Antara, of Amru, of Hareth, preserved by Sir William Jones, were suspended on the temple at Mecca, with a translation and arguments.

Virgil.

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If she descends to chaunt in sportive lays,
She like Alcides with the spindle plays.
Tho' Genius mostly loves the epic lyre
Yet oft she scourges with an honest ire,
The crimes, the follies of an impious age, *
The warbling nonsense of some hot-press'd page.

Tho' Genius mostly loves some daring theme,
Yet she can warble with the tinkling stream;
Tho' her bold hand strikes the hoarse thundering
Yet not the nightingale more sweetly sings. (strings,
Hush ! every sound---let not a zephyr move;
O, let me listen to those notes of love!
For tender Virgil + breathes his softest strain,
And Amaryllis fills the shady plain:

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* Though nothing can be farther from the truth than the assertion of Shaftesbury, that ridicule is the test of Truth; though Virtue needs no such advocate as Ridicule to plead her cause; yet there are many vices and follies which are the proper subjects of its severity and scourging : There are productions of false perverted taste, which more deserve the lash, than the attention of serious and dignified criticism. It is a mistaken opinion, too much indulged, that the excellency of satire consists rather in its severity and exaggeration than in its truth. Satire, like the knife of the surgeon, in most cases should cut, not to destroy, but to save.

+ The Eclogues of Virgil have been the models of the most finished pastorals that have since been written. Pope's

Petrarch.

His voice of music lulls the stilly scene,
And not a whisper Alits across the green.
In transport lost I tread some fairy shade,
And hear the accents of my peerless maid !
Her silent footsteps thro' the glade I trace,
And seem to clasp her in my fond embrace;
Around me flows the breath of every flower,
And wildest music breaks from every bower.

Thou murmuring breeze! O bear upon thy wing That strain, which flows from Petrarch's* mournful

string.

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pastorals have little more to recommend them than their smoothness of versification. The writer who approaches nearest to the great master of this species of poetry, is Gessner. His Idyls observe a style peculiar to themselves, He is happy in his selection of simple and affecting incidents; of such as have great force upon the heart. Dr. Johnson, in his criticism upon Virgil's Eclogues, after noticing the beauties and defects of each one, gives the preference to the first. In this decision he has been generally followed.

* This singular character was born at Arezzo, in the be ginning of the fourteenth century, when Europe began to shake off the long slumbers of Gothic night, and to hail the morning of Literature. Early in life he received the patronage of the noble family of Colonna, under whose shelter he was enabled to prosecute his studies, and to obtain stores of information unequalled in that day. His romantic at.

Petrarch.

O speak those charms which Petrarch's Laura wears! O breathe that passion which he mourn'd in tears!

tachment for Laura, who was the wife of the young Hughes de Sades, is well known. He first saw this lady, at the time of matins, in the monastery of St. Claire. He was instantly struck with her face, her air, her person, her dark and tender eyes, “ her ringlets interwoven with the hands of love,” her gentle and modest carriage, and the melting sound of her voice. Unhappy in his passion, and unable to banish it from him, he mourned over it in his sonnets with the most inimitable tenderness, and sought for its alleviation in the solitary shades of Vaucluse; but all his efforts to forget the object of his affection were in vain. Though he concealed bimself in solitude from the observation of men; yet the image of Laura followed him there. During his abode in this retreat, and while engaged in writing an epic poem, in honour of Scipio, which he called Africa, he received a letter from the Roman senate, urging him, with many intreaties, to come to Rome, and receive the crown of laurel. On the same day in which this letter came to his hands, a courier arrived, bearing a similar invitation from the chancellor of the university at Paris : Petrarch decided in favour of Rome; and in the year 1341, amid the joy and shouts of a vast assembly, was crowned, with pomp and solemnity, at that capital.--. Amid these intoxicating honours, " I blushed,” says he, "'at the applause of the people, and the unmerited commendations with which I was overwhelmed.” Soon after, writing to a friend, he says, “ These laurels which encircled my head were too green; had I been of riper age and understanding I would

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