Its Powers enumerated.

Science still wears the blooming face of youth,
And darkness yet conceals some useful truth:
We should not spurn our Father's toil and aid
But build where sages their foundation laid.
Round the old oak the springing ivy twines,
Nor shuns support the wild luxuriant vines.
Wisdom a venerable form appears

Moving along beneath a load of years.

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30

The comet's glare enlightens not the world,
Which flies thro' Heaven, in wild confusion hurl'd:
But 'tis the Sun that holds his stedfast sphere,
And crowns the seasons of the rolling year.
The marble buried, in its native mines,
Conceals the beauty of its clouds and lines;
The sculptor's polish can each feature give,
And even make the rugged marble live!
Thus Genius, in the night of darkness born,
May wind, unnotic'd, her resounding horn,
Unless fair Science to her wondering soul,
The page of Knowledge and of Art unroll.
Like the stout traveller straying from his course,
She errs the more from her exhaustless force.
Young Edwin * wandered in his native dell,
And woke the music of his simple shell;

* See Beattie's Minstrel---a work of the justest sentiment, of the finest painting, and which gives to the world

Tale of Edwin.

With pondering awe, he from the giddy steep,
"Like ship-wreck'd mariner," o'erhung the deep,
And listen'd to the billow's solemn roar,

Which rolling fell upon the winding shore.
With morning dawn, he left his lowly shed,
And, led in wonder, sought the mountain head,
Where, hid in trees, and seated on the ground,
He listen'd to the bell's far-distant sound.
His thoughtful mind unlettered, would explore
And muse in sadness that he knew no more;
At length an hermit, to his longing eyes,
Bad the sad visions of the world arise;
To his attention all his lore express'd,
And rous'd the Genius kindled in his breast.
The Muse of Milton* in his infant days

Lisp'd in sweet numbers pour'd prolific lays,

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a picture in Edwin that can never be too much admired.

* I have thought no writer could answer better to confirm the doctrine which has been advanced than Milton.--The voice of criticism has pronounced him the most learned among the poets.--- His vast information, while it did not restrain, regulated his flight. Such was his ambition to excel, such was his love of learning, that from his twelfth year he commonly continued his studies until midnight. When he arrived at his seventeenth year he was a good classical scholar, was master of several languages, and had produced

Milton.

With dauntless soul his little arms he spread

To grasp the wreaths which hung from Homer's

head.

Rous'd by the wonders of the classic page,
He gave to study all his early age;

In thirst of knowledge and his favourite lore
He sought instruction on a foreign shore,
Courted the Muses in Italian plains

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Where his lov'd Tasso pour'd his melting strains.
-Crown'd with th' applauses of imperial Rome,
He turns his footsteps towards his native home;
There gives to Wisdom all his studious hours,
And gives expansion to his mighty powers;
At length prepared, he spreads his wings for flight
And seeks the realms of uncreated light----

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several of his approved poems. In the year 1638, he set out upon his travels, he visited France, and most parts of Italy, and after having been abroad one year and three months, after having been caressed by the princes and literary characters of France and Italy; after having conversed with the most famous men of the age, with Grotius at Paris, with Gallileo in the prison of the Inquisition, he returned home to call into action his cultivated and emulating powers.---It is said that his first desire of writing an epic poem, was excited by a conversation which he had with the Marquis of Villa concerning Tasso, and that he first thought of selecting king Arthur as his Hero.

Johnson.

With vast conception, steadfast and alone
See Johnson* seated on his critic-throne,

*To Dr. Johnson Literature is probably more generally indebted than to any other author which England has produced. His was one of those stupendous minds which is the proper subject of wonder. His weaknesses, which were shades to his brightness, serve to shew us that the utmost strength of intellect is unable to overcome the failings of mortality. His violent prejudices, and some evident partialities and errors in his criticisms, are the most formidable objections against him; but even these in him "seem as the spots of heaven more fiery by night's blackness." His style is the most nervous and dignified in the English language, and could a few words and expressions be excluded from it, it would be the most correct. His Dictionary, undertaken and executed alone, under the pressure of disease, and under mental afflictions, is a prodigious work, and one to which our language is everlastingly indebted. His Rambler, excepting one or two papers, the production of his single pen, contains a system of ethics most pleasingly delivered. His Lives of the Poets are more edifying and delightful, than the lives of all the military heroes ever written: You are there conducted to the closet of Genius, where you may inspect her minutest actions: she is there represented to your view, active amidst the busy scenes, and reclined in indulgence beneath the shade of solitude. Plutarch, in Biography, must yield to Johnson. His Rasselas displays powers of invention: It is too gloomy generally to please, but its lessons should be imprinted upon every heart. His London, and Vanity of Human Wishes,

D

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 smil'd,
And Genius mark'd him for her darling child.

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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