sublime as a mountain, and a good poet will imbue a pack of cards with more poetry than inhabits the forests of America." Of the truth of this observation we might give innumerable instances, but it has been so clearly demonstrated in a late vindication of Pope's poetical character, that we cannot do better than refer our readers to the work itself. Mr. Roscoe, we think, is equally unhappy in his own definition of poetry, so unhappy indeed, that the poetical varnish in which he says Pignotti makes it consist, approaches nearer to its real essence, though still at an immense distance from it. Wherever there is poetical varnish, there must be something of poetry, but there may not be a particle of it in what he calls poetry. The "The essence of poetry,' he says, "must consist in the strength and novelty of the thought, and in the aptitude and propriety of the language to express such thought in the most impressive and effectual manner." This we think may be as much the essence of prose as of poetry, for a thought expressed in the commonest prose, may possess strength and novelty, and the

language in which it is expressed possess all the characters mentioned by Mr. Roscoe. He must, therefore, in our opinion, seek elsewhere for the essence of poetry, for if his definition were right, the orations of Cicero and Demosthenes would be poetical in the highest degree.

We must therefore confess, that the Italian critics appear to us to have taken a fairer view of Lorenzo's poetical genius and merits than Mr. Roscoe, and that as Pignotti justly observes, "however well a person may understand a foreign language, he can with difficulty enter into its poetical refinements," though we believe, at the same time, that Mr. Roscoe has been misled rather by his partiality for Lorenzo than by a want of taste to appreciate the beauties and perceive the elegancies and inelegancies of his poetry. We shall now examine how far he has been successful in vindicating the conduct of Lorenzo against the writers who have lately impugned his character as a statesman, and censured the influence which he exercised over the political affairs of Italy.

(To be concluded in the next. )

ΜΕΓΑ βιβλιον, μέγα κακον -A great book is a great evil is an old, and an approved saying. It may be for this reason, perhaps, that the "dust of ages" is suffered to accumulate upon those "massive tomes," those venerable relics of hoar antiquity, which, however valuable their contents, are suffered to repose upon the shelves of our public libraries, undisturbed but by the bookworm or the retrospective reviewer. We are happy, however, to perceive that the public does begin to appreciate these "precious jewels;" and that, without neglecting contemporary genius, it has received with due encouragement the elegant reprints, of which so many have of late issued from the press. The quotation, however, with

which we commenced, is by no means applicable to the minimum quarto before us. None of our readers, we suspect, will be deterred from the perusal by its inconvenient bulk, while the excellence of its contents, the novelty of its form, and the unrivalled beauty of the typographical execution cannot fail to secure it an extensive patronage.

FRANCIS QUARLES, the author of the the work before us, was born in 1590, of a wealthy and most respectable family, at Stewards, near Romford, in Essex. His grandfather was Sir Robert Quarles; and his father, James Quarles Esq. was Clerk to the Board of Green Cloth, and Purveyor to the Navy of Queen Elizabeth. We find no particulars of our author's early youth, but at

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the usual age, he appears to have been sent to Christ's College, Cambridge, and afterwards to have studied the law in Lincoln's Inn. Being intended for public life, he sought and obtained the office of cup-bearer to the Princess Elizabeth, eldest daughter of James the First, Electress Palatine and Queen of Bohemia. Her service, however, he soon quitted, probably on the decline of the Elector's affairs, and went over to Ireland, where he became secretary to the Archbishop of Armagh. To the daughter of this excellent prelate, "the faire branch," as he calls her, "of growing honour and true virtue, Mrs. Elizabeth Usher," he dedicated the second century of his Enchiridion; the first being addressed to "the glorious object of our expectation, Prince Charles" (the Second). Here he remained till 1641, when "the troubles in Ireland," says Fuller, "where his loss was great, forced him to return hither, bearing his crosses with great patience; so that, according to the advice of St. Hierome, verba vertebat in opera, and practised the job he described." In England, however, he was not destined to find that consolation which he sought; for having offended the ruling powers by the publication of his "Royal ConRoyal Convert," his estates were devastated, and his books and manuscripts destroyed.+ The latter circumstance is said to have affected him so much, as to have hastened his death, which happened on the 8th of September, 1644, in the 52d year year of his age. He is said by Walpole, Granger, and Pope, to have been pensioned by King Charles; and though no authority is quoted by any of these authors, there seems to be little reason to doubt it. Charles was a patron of genius; and the loyalty and sufferings

him an

of our unfortunate author gave additional claim to the royal bounty. As a poet, Quarles appears to have enjoyed considerable popularity in his day. His venerable and benevolent master, writing to Gerard Vossius, describes him as vir ob sacratiorem poesin apud Anglos non incelebris ;§ and Wood goes still farther, and calls him "the sometime darling of our plebeian judg ments;" and Philips testifies that "his verses have been ever, and still are in wonderful estimation among the vulgar." Pope, indeed, (for it was the fashion of that day to look rather at an author's deficiencies than at his merits) attributes his fame, rather to the pretty pictures with which the most popular of his works (his emblems) was adorned. The present age, however, it is hoped, will restore him to that rank to which he may justly claim. His poetry, it is true, is frequently deformed by quaintness, and by far-fetched and long spun conceits; but the excellent moral which he every where conveys, the beautiful poetic feeling which occationally breaks forth, will entitle him to the notice of the "reading public."¶

But it is not as a poet that we are now to view him. His Enchiridion is in prose, and some of the best prose of that period. His style is indeed sometimes quaint and antithetical; but his manner is generally good, and his matter excellent. He is less studiously brief and epigrammatic than Warwick, and sometimes, though but rarely, rises into eloquence. There is a devout and kindly feeling which pervades the whole, and, unlike that of most works which are purely didactic, leads the reader "by little and little" ab oro usque ad mala, and he closes the volume with feelings of regret that it is not longer,

vernment exact.

XXI.-If thou desire to know the power of a State, observe in what correspondence it lives with her neighbouring State. If she make allyance with the contribution of money, it is an evident signe of weaknesse if with her valor of repute of forces, it manifests a native strength. It is an infallible signe of power to sell friendship, and of weaknesse to buy it. That which is bought with gold, will hardly be maintained with steele.

XXXVI.-If thou hast conquered a land whose language differs not from thine, change not their lawes nor taxes, and the two kingdoms will in a short time incorporate and make one body. But if the lawes and language differ, it is difficult to maintain thy conquest, which that thou maist the easier doe, observe three things; first, to live there in person, (or rather send colonies :) secondly, to assist the weak inhabitants, and weaken the mighty; thirdly, to admit no powerfull foreigner to reside there. Remember Louis the Thirteenth of France, how suddenly he took Milan, and how soon he lost it.

XXXIX. He, that would reform an ancient State in a free city, buyes convenience with a great danger; to work this reformation with the less mischief, let such a one keep the shadowes of their ancient customes, though in substance they be new. Let him take heed when he alters the nature of things, they bear at least the ancient names. The common people, that are naturally impatient of innovations, will be satisfied with that which seems to be, as well as that which is.

Upon the next two Aphorisms our

Author's own times afforded a melancholy comment.

LI.-If thou endeavourest to make a republic in a nation where the gentry abounds, thou shalt hardly prosper in that designe; and if thou wouldest erect a principality in á land where there is much equality of people, thou shalt not easily effect it. The way to bring the first to passe is to weaken the gentry: the means to effect the last is to advance and strengthen ambitious and turbulent spirits, so that being placed in the midst of them, their forces may maintain thy power, and thy favour may preserve their ambition; otherwise, there shall be neither proportion nor

continuance.

LXI. It is a mixt monarchy, if the hierarchy grow too absolute; it is wisdom in a prince rather to depresse it than suppresse it. All alterations in a fundamental Government bring apparent dangers, but too sudden alteration threatens inevitable ruin. When Aaron made a moulten calle, Moses altered not the Government, but the governour.

He thus concludes the first Century.

C.-And you, most high and mighty Princes of this lower world, who at this intricate and various game of warre, vye kingdomes and winne crownes; and, by the death of your renowned subjects, gaine the lives of your bold-hearted enemies. Know there is a quo warranto, whereto you are to give account of your eye glorious actions, according to the righteous rules of sacred justice, how warrantable it is to rend imperiall crownes from off the sovereign heads of their too weake possessours, or to snatch scepters from out the conquer'd land of heaven-anointed majesty, and by your vast ambitions, still to enlarge your large dominions with kingdoms ravish't from their natural princes, judge you. O, let your brave designs and well-weighed actions be as just as ye are glorious, and consider that all your warres, whose ends are not to defend your own possessions or to recover your dispossessions, are but princely injuries, which none but heaven can right. But where necessity strikes up her hard alarmes, or wrong'd religion beats her zealous marches, go on and prosper; and let both swords and stratagems proclaim a victory, whose noys'd renown may fill the world with your eternal glory.

CENTURY II. APHORISM IX.-Pride is the ape of charity: in show, not much unlike, but somewhat fuller of action. In seeking the one, take heed thou light not

upon the other: they are two parallels, never cut asunder. Charity feeds the poore, so does pride. Charity, builds an hospital, so does pride. In this they differ charity gives her glory to God-pride takes her glory from man.

XII. Search into thyself, before thou accept the ceremony of honour. If thou art a palace, honour (like the sun-beams,) will make thee more glorious: if thou art a dunghill, the sun may shine upon thee, but not sweeten thee. Thy prince may give thee honour, but not make thee honourable.

XXIX.-Be very circumspect in the choice of thy company. In the society of thine equals, thou shalt enjoy more pleasure; in the society of thy superiors thou shalt find more profit; to be the best in the company is the way to grow worse; the best means to grow better, is to be the worst there.

LXXIX. In thy apparel avoid singularity, profusenesse, and gaudinesse. Be not too early in the fashion, nor too late. Decency is the half-way betweene affectation and neglect. The body is the shell of the soul: apparell is the huske of that shell: the husk often tels you what the .kernel is.

XCVII. So behave thyself among thy children, that they may love and honour thy presence. Be not too fond, lest they fear thee not.-Be not too bitter, lest they fear thee too much; too much familiarity will embolden them; too little countenance will discourage them.-So carry thyselfe, that they may rather fear thy displeasure than thy correction. When thou reprovest them, doe it in season; when thou correctest them, doe it not in passion. As a wise child makes a happy father, so a wise father makes a happy child.

C.-The birds of the air die to sustain thee; the beasts of the field die to nourish thee; our stomachs are their common se

pulcher. Good God! with how many deaths are our poor lives patch'd up! how full of death is the life of momentary man!

CENTURY III. APHORISM I.-If thou take paines in what is good, the paines vanish, the good remaines. If thou take pleasure in what is evil, the evil remains and the pleasure vanishes. What art thou the worse for paine, or the better for pleasure, when both are past?

II-If thy fancy and judgment have agreed in the choice of a fit wife, be not too fond, lest she surfeit, nor too peevish, lest she languish. Love so, that thou mayst be feared; rule so, that thou mayst be honoured. Be not too diffident, lest thou teach her to deceive thee, nor too suspicious, lest thou teach her to abuse thee. If thou seest a fault, let thy love

hide it; if she continue it, let thy wisdom reprove it. Reprove her not openly, lest she grow bold; rebuke her not taunt ingly, lest she grow spitefull; proclaim not her beauty, lest she grow proud; boast not her wisdom, lest thou be thought foolish; shew her not thy imperfections, lest she disdain thee; pry not into her dairy, lest she despise thee; prophane not her ears with loose communication, lest thou defile the sanctuary of her modesty.-An understanding husband makes a discreet wife, and she a happy husband.

XVIII.-If thou desire to see thy children virtuous, let them not see their father's vices; thou canst not rebuke that in them that they behold practised in thee. Till reason be ripe, examples direct more than precepts. Such as thy behaviour is before thy childrens' faces, such commonly is their's behind their parents' backs.

XLVII.-Let thy conversation with men be sober and sincere; let thy devotion to God be dutifull and decent; let the one be hearty, and not haughty; let the other be humble, and not homely. So live with men, as if God saw thee; so pray to God, as if men heard thee.

LXII.-Things temporall are sweeter in the expectation; things eternall are sweeter in the fruition.-The first shames thy hope, the second crowns it. It is a vain journey, whose end affords less pleasure than the way.

LXXXV.-God hath given to mankinde a common library-his creatures; and to every man a proper booke, himself being an abridgement of all the others. If thou reade with understanding, it will make thee a great master of philosophy, and a true servant to the divine Authour. If thou but barely reade, it will make thee thy own wise man, and the authour's fool.

CENTURY IV. ALPHORISM I.-Demean thyself more warily in thy study than in the street. If thy publique actions have a hundred witnesses, thy private have a thousand. The multitude lookes but upon thy actions; thy conscience lookes into them. The multitude may chance to excuse thee, if not acquit thee; thy conscience will accuse thee, if not condemn thee.

XL.-Marry not too young; and when thou art too old, marry not, lest thou be fond in the one, or thou dote in the other, and repent for both. Let thy liking ripen before thou love; let thy love advise before thou choose, and let thy choice be fixt before thou marry. Remember, that the whole happiness or unhappiness of thy life depends upon this one act. Remember nothing but death can dissolve this knot. He that weds in haste repents oft times by