experience may supply that propriety of manner and that moderation in which he is at present lamentably deficient. The tone of the following lines is certainly amusing: • But hail those days, when men, no longer great, The subsequent passage is written with great vigour; though the personal allusions, which it is supposed to convey, are more suited to some local election-squib than to a grave satire on the state of the nation : "Ye too shall live, whom no vain rules confine, Who damns the laws which he has sworn to teach, No pow'r of mine shall fail to second you." The happiness of the author's style, and the intimate acquaintance which it indicates him to hold with some of the best writers of antiquity, make us little willing to remark the pettiness of spirit which we occasionally detect. We have much more pleasure in expressing the entire coincidence of our judgment, and of our feelings, with those of the author in the ensuing lines: Still there are some, who hail the golden reign, The times foretold by Carlile and by Paine, The holy æra,' the enlighten'd day, When man, unprejudic'd, shall cease to pray, P 2 The The sable scutcheons on the wall within, Appended to the dialogue is a translation from Horace, not surpassing mediocrity, and disappointing the expectations which we formed from the touches of classical elegance in the dialogue. Differing as we do from the author in most of his political doctrines, we shall nevertheless be sincerely glad to hail him again, whether as a censor of the manners of the age or as a candidate for fame on territory more appropriate to the vagaries of fiction. Art. 14. Tribute of Affection to the Memory of Mrs. Elizabeth Susanna Frederica Whitehouse. By the Reverend John Whitehouse, Rector of Orlingbury, Northamptonshire. 8vo. pp. 57. Conder. 1819. Lines written by a clergyman to the memory of his deceased wife, and apparently at a time when his mind was under considerable agitation, we cannot think of subjecting to any critical scrutiny. A tone of mournfulness, deep and fixed, pervades the whole of this pamphlet, which arrests the attention and insures the sympathy of every reader; particularly as the character of the deceased is delineated in a manner entirely free from extravagance and ostentation. In support of our opinion, and also from the belief that it is a favourable specimen of the poem, we may quote the following passage: In early life, And in the bloom of beauty, she retired Her husband, children, household; in that sphere In life and manners; faithful, gentle, kind; Modest and unassuming, with full hand Suck Such worth above all price? or in the hour Could such a friend be found, to sooth the pang And heal the throbbings of the mind that's stung Art. 15. The Vale of Slaughden, a Poem, in Five Cantos. By James Bird. 8vo. pp. 107. 75. 6d. Boards. Baldwin and Co. 1819. The incidents related in this poem are told in an interesting manner, though much cannot be said in favour of their originality; since both the story and the language constantly recall to our recollection Campbell's "Gertrude of Wyoming." The introduction of Alfred in the cottage is neither well conceived nor happily executed; and we think that it both diminishes the interest and detracts from the uniformity of the poem. Art. 16. Sketches from St. George's Fields; by Giorgione di Castel Chiuso. 12mo. 78. Boards. Stodart and Steuart. 1820. We fully believe that this author has lately been a prisoner, but not for debt; and we are equally incredulous as to his name, imagining him to be about as near a relation to Giorgione the painter as he is to any Italian. We are sorry also to be obliged to doubt concerning his place of confinement, his Castel Chiuso ;' which, we strongly suspect, would be found much nearer to St. Sepulchre's Church than to the Surrey Theatre. Wherever he may have been immured, or whoever he may be, he is a very clever fellow, and worthy to tread with freedom, and not with any restraint, in the steps of George Colman, the Younger. The main story in this little volume, which most generally reminds us of the celebrated humourist whom we have just mentioned, is the following; to our minds, a happy tale; and we hope that it may be found equally to the relish of our readers. Lawless, a genial companion, of more wit than principle, has issued from the King's Bench, armed with a day-rule; and in Leicester Square, at the very door of Brunet's hotel, he is arrested by a bailiff and his follower. Dissembling his security, he instantly conceives a plan for amusing himself at the expence of these old enemies. He therefore invites them to dinner at Brunet's; which invitation, on the sight of a pocket-book seeming to contain notes, (the only unnatural thing in the story!*) and on the expected assistance of Mr. Snare his follower in case of an attempted rescue, Mr. Fang politely accepts. He suggests, however, the natural difficulty of dining at a French coffee-house, without possessing a word of French, and inquires how he is to proceed? f The author had better have rested the success of Lawless on his powers of persuasion, as Fielding before him : "Thou hast a tongue Would charm a bailiff to forego his hold." P 3 * A very "A very proper question," Lawless cried, If aught should puzzle you, pray look at me, Lawless was known; so when the coffee-room And some suspected how the case might be; "Eh Garçon! vite! la carte à Monsieur Snare ; - here's the bill of fare) N'est ce pas juste, eh Fang?"" Oui, oui, Mounseer.” A bow, a smile, from Jaunay, and a look That well the spirit of the plot he took; The unintelligible bill of fare, And, loth to own his ignorance, still pryed side eyes That That well the bailiffs' throats might cauterizę : Who cried, "Oui, oui,” aloud, while each direction ⚫ Dinner was served. It would have made you smile, Sit looking at each other for a while, As doubting what to think of their new fare, They sipped the soup, and found it wondrous hot; A taste, their mouths and throats appear'd to fill. "Come, pass the bright Champagne; who heeds the bill? I care not, so my friends be satisfied, And wine, so excellent, be still supplied." The wine indeed was bright; and most divinely So loudly did their laughter now explode, So near to riot was their mirth a-kin, That soon 'twas needful to restrain the din.' We are forced to curtail the lively description that follows of the bailiff's openness of heart, encouraged by his wine. At last, however, he grows very offensive, and Lawless is obliged to produce his day-rule. • Not more Morroco's prince in horror stares, When, Portia's picture trusting to behold; From the Death's head the upbraiding scroll he tears, P4 Than |