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two or three miscellaneous remarks flamed; the idea of their rank and for the entertainment of the general superiority to others seldom quits reader. them; and though they are in the Travelling. "I had (says Dr.P.) been habit of concealing their feelings, and recommended to Lord Shelburne by disguising their passions, it is not alDr.Price, as a person qualified to be a ways so well done, but that persons literary companion to him. In this si- of ordinary discernment may perceive tuation, my family being at Calne, in what they inwardly suffer. On this Wiltshire, near to his lordship's seat account, they are really entitled to at Bowood, I continued seven years, compassion, it being the almost unaspending the summer with my family, voidable consequence of their educa and a great part of the winter in his tion and mode of life. But when the lordship's house in London. My of mind is not hurt in such a situation, fice was nominally that of librarian, when a person born to affluence can but I had little employment as such, lose sight of himself, and truly feel besides arranging his books, taking a and act for others, the character is so catalogue of them, and of his manu- godlike, as shews that this inequality scripts, which were numerous, and of condition is not without its use. making an index_to his collection of Like the general discipline of life, it private papers. In fact I was with is for the present lost on the great him as a friend, and the second year mass, but on a few it produces what made with him the tour of Flanders, no other state of things could do." Holland, and Germany, as far as Strasburgh; and after spending a month at Paris, returned to England. This was in the year 1774.

LORD BUTE.-The following inter esting particulars respecting this nobleman are related in M. Dutens' Memoirs of a Traveller now in Re"This little excursion made me tirement."-" Lord Bute, (says this more sensible than I should otherwise author) was a man of dignified, elehave been of the benefit of foreign gant manners, and of a handsome travel, even without the advantage of person: he was endowed with great much conversation with foreigners. talents, and a comprehensive mind; The very sight of new countries, new his knowledge was extensive; and he buildings, new customs, &c. and the possessed a spirit of magnanimity that very hearing of an unintelligible new despised difficulties, and proved how language, gives new ideas, and tends admirably he was fitted to share in to enlarge the mind. To me this lit- the greatest enterprises. So free tle time was extremely pleasing, from ambition, however, was he, especially as I saw every thing to the that scarcely was he married, when greatest advantage, and without any he retired to the Isle of Bute, of which anxiety or trouble, and had an op- he was proprietor: where he devoted portunity of seeing and conversing himself to various studies, and a tranwith every person of eminence wherever we came; the political characters by his lordship's connections, and the literary ones by my own.

quil and happy life; dividing his time between the improvement of his estates, and the enjoyment of his books and his family. Here, perhaps, Middle Classes of Society. "I used he would have ended his days, lad to make no scruple of maintaining, not the landing of the Pretender in that there is not only most virtue and Scotland, in the year 1745, obliged most happiness, but even most true him to change his manner of living. politeness in the middle classes of Upon that occasion most of the life. For in proportion as men pass Scotch nobility who were attached to more of their time in the society of the reigning family, withdrew from their equals, they get a better esta- Scotland; that they might not be susblished habit of governing their tem- pected of an attachment to the Stuarts, pers; they attend more to the feel- and to testify their zeal for the court. ings of others, and are more disposed "Lord Bute, though bearing the to accommodate themselves to them. name of Stuart, and one of the chiets On the other hand, the passions of of that illustrious family, was among persons in higher life, having been the first to repair to London, and ofless controlled, are more apt to be in- fer his services to the King. When

he appeared at the court, it was di- "In proportion as George 11. advided into two parties: that of the vanced in years, the Prince of Wales, King, and that of the Prince of Wales, and the Princess (who had the natural who frequently opposed the measures ascendancy of a mother over him), of his father. The Prince of Wales acquired more influence. The miniwas much pleased with Lord Bute, sters began to pay some attention to and sought his friendship by so many this rising court; and Lord Bute, who marks of distinction, that his lordship was its oracle, consequently enjoyed soon renounced all other engage- great power."

ments; and devoted himself, without reserve, to the service of a prince who POLITICAL ASCENDANCY.-Adloaded him with honours and kind- verting to the control exercised by ness. By degrees he became so ne- the first Earl of Chatham, M. Dutens cessary to the Prince of Wales in af- excellently remarks, that "He gofairs both of business and of amuse- verned almost despotically a people ment, that nothing could be done who, though little inclined to yield without him. to arbitrary power, are sometimes "The death of the prince, which reduced by their attachment to popuhappened some years after, far from di- lar leaders."

minishing his influence, considerably

increased it. The Princess of Wales PLEASURE! It was the remark of honoured him with unreserved confi- Langier, formerly a physician at the dence; and consulted him not only court of Vienna, that "At twentyupon her own concerns, but upon the five, we kill Pleasure; at thirty, we education of the Pince of Wales, her enjoy it; at forty, we husband it; son. By her influence with the king, at fifty, we hunt after it; and at Lord Bute was appointed first lord of sixty, we regret it!"-He was, (obthe chamber to the young prince; serves Dutens) the St. Evremond of and this early mark of favour excited Vienna. Nobody had more deeply against that nobleman the jealousy of studied the art of being happy; and many of his competitors, and was the none better knew how to enjoy hapcause of that animosity which after- piness himself, or to make others ac wards broke out so strongly against quainted with it. him.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

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Parent of manners, thou! to whom we owe
The heart to conflict, and the mind to know;
Mild as the past, O may no coming storm
The tranquil lustre of thy days deform!
To added years, be added bliss decreed;
Virtue's best gifts, and Honour's spotless
meed!

Though destin'd soon, discharg'd thy fos-
tering care,

Far from thy smiles in differing scenes to share,

Not ceas'd thy pow'r, o'er fortune's restless tide

Thy rules shall counsel, and thy pattern guide;

To life's last hour, some grateful minds
shall save

Thy bright remembrance from oblivion's
grave!
Dec 2d, 1805.

AMICUS.

CRITICISM.

BEACHY HEAD: with other Poems, there was some reason to suppose by CHARLOTTE SMITH, pp. 140, herself [Mrs. Smith) had written, and notes, 79. Johnson, 1807. and partly an intention of annexing a

H and justly indulged, it is not having been since decided to publish often that our anticipations are hap- Biographical Memoirs, and a selecpily realised. This seems particularly tion of her Correspondence, on a the case with respect to the posthu- more enlarged plan, and under the mous publications of distinguished immediate authority of her own nearauthors. The solicitude with which est relatives, the motives for deferthe public generally look forward to ring the publication are altogether such productions, when announced, removed." and the avidity with which they are Notwithstanding the hope expressed inspected immediately on their ap- by the anonymous editor of the prepearance in the world of letters, have sent volume, that "the public, who a natural tendency to stimulate inte- have received the several editions of rested individuals to collect together Mrs. Smith's former poems with unthe scattered fragments of departed bounded approbation, will, without genius, and, for the sake of enco- doubt, admit the claims of the present ument mercly, to hurry them in work to an equal share of their faalmost any shape, and without consi- vour," we must beg leave to be so deration, before the tribunal of opinion, sceptical as to demur on what to her and the judgmen-seat of criticism, editor appears altogether unquestionThe dead are alike personally unot able. For from denying, at the same fected either by commendation or time, the real merits of the poems censure, and it therefore appears of now under review, we shall proceed no consequence, in this point of view, to point out what we feel to be their how far their surviving friends may beauties, without minutely or invi commit their reputation with poste- diously dwelling on what we consider to be their defects; yet we must be The solemn duties of sepulture, understood as declaring, according to however, are not the only ones which our estimation of works of this nature, require to be performed to the manes that the present publication will not of illustrious characters. If men con- angment, if indeed it does not dimisider as sacred the delegated arrange- Bish, the splendour of Mrs. Smith's ment of the pecuniary affairs of a de- poetical effulgence. reased person, ought not something "BEACHY HEAD is not completed," like respect and felty to be evi says the editor, " according to the denced in the conduct of those who original design." This we fully be are entrusted with the fame of a cnce lieve; and as, except in point of celebrated writer? length, we do not esteem this poem We shall not attempt to ascertain entitled to precedence, our excerpts to what extent the preceding animad- from it shall be desultory. We think versions actually apply to the friends the following among the best passages of the late Mrs. Charlotte Smith; it contains:—

OWEVER rationally conceived, short account of her life; but it

rity.

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since it is more than intimated, in the Ah! who is happy? Happiness! a word preface to the volume before us, that Thatke falsefire, from marsh effluvia born, the poems of which it is composed Mads the wanderer, desin'd to contend were delivered to the publisher pre- In the world's wilderness, with want or woe→ viously to her decease, though, in Yet they are happy, who have never ask`d consequence of that melancholy What good or evil means. event, the duty of publishing devolved to other bands. The delay," 1 lead to love these upland solitudes, I once was happy, when while yet a child, it is added, 66 which since that period And, when elastic as the mountain air, has taken place, has been occasioned To my light spirit, care was yet unknowa partly by the hope of finding a pre- And evil unforeseen:-Early it came, face to the present publication, which And childhood scarcely passed, I was con

demned,

A guiltless exile, silently to sigh,
While Memory, with faithful pencil, drew
The contrast and regretting, I compar`d
With the polluted smoky atmosphere

And dark and stifling streets, the southern hills

That to the setting Sun, their graceful heads Rearin 3, o'erlook the frith, where Vecta

breaks With her white rocks, the strong impetuous tide,

When western winds the vast Atlantic urge

To thunder on the coast-Haunts of my youth!

Scenes of fond day dreams, I behold ye yet! Where 'twas so pleasant by thy northern slopes

To climb the winding sheep path, aided

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The Poet and the Painter's utmost art. In the passage beginning "Ah! who is happy?" and in the line “Ah! hills so early lov'd!"-in these, and in several similar passages, the poetireader will instantaneously recognise the quaint moralising of Cowper, and the plaintive tenderness of Gray. Our readers must become acquainted with the interesting Stranger,' whom Mrs. Smith has introduced to us. In such a castellated mansion once A stranger chose his home; and where hard by

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In rude disorder fallen, and hid with brushwood

Lay fragments gray of towers and buttresses,

Among the ruins, often he would museHis rustic meal soon ended, he was wont To wander forth, listening the evening. sounds

Of rushing milldam, or the distant team, Or night jar, chasing fern-flies: the tired

hind

Pass'd him at nightfall, wondering he should sit

On the hill top so late: they from the

coast

Who sought bye paths with their clandestine load,

Saw with suspicious doubt, the lonely man Cross on their way: but village maidens thought

His senses injur'd; and with pity say
That he, poor youth! must have been

cross'd in love

For, of en, stretch'd upon the mountain

turf

With folded arms. and eyes intently fix'd Where ancient elms and firs obscured a grang,

Some little space within the vale below, They heard him, as complaining of his fate, And to the murmuring wind, of cold neg

lect

And baffled hope he told-The peasant girls

These plaintive sounds remember, and even

now

Among them may be heard the stranger's

songs.

2 G

Were I a Shepherd on the hill
And ever as the mists withdrew
Could see the willows of the rill
Shading the footway to the mill

Where once I walk'd with you-
And as away Night's shadows sail,

And sounds of birds and brooks arise, Believe, that from the woody vale I hear your voice upon the gale

In soothing melodics;

And viewing from the Alpine height,

The prospect dress'd in hues of air, Could say, while transient colours bright Tonch'd the fair scene with dewy light, 'Tis, that her eyes are there!

I think, I could endure my lot

And linger on a few short years,

And then, by all but you forgot,

And with his prayers perform'd the obsequies

For the poor helpless stranger.

One dark night

The equinoctial wind blew south by west, Fierce on the shore;-the bellowing cliffs were shook

Even to their stony base, and fragments fell

Flashing and thundering on the angry Alcod.

At day-break, anxious for the lonely man, His cave the mountain shepherds visited, Tho' sand and banks of weeds had choak'd their way

He was not in it; but his drowned cor'se By the waves wafted, near his former home Receiv'd the rites of burial. Those who read

Sleep, where the turf that clothes the spot Chisel'd within the rock, these mournful

May claim some pitying tears.

For 'tis not easy to forget

One, who thro' life has lov'd you still, And you, however late, might yet With sighs to Memory giv'n, regret The Shepherd of the Hill.

Wandering on the beach, He learn'd to augur from the clouds of Heaven,

And from the changing colours of the sea,
And sullen murmurs of the hollow cliffs,
Or the dark porpoises, that near the shore
Gambol'd and sported on the level brine
When tempests were approaching: then at
night

He listen'd to the wind; and as it drove
The billows with o'erwhelming vehemence
He, starting from his rugged couch, went

forth

And hazarding a life, ton valueless,
He waded thro' the waves, with plank or
pole

Towards where the mariner in conflict
dread

Was buffeting for life the roaring surge; And now just seen, now lost in faming gulphs,

The dismal gleaming of the clouded moon Shew'd the dire peril. Often he had snatched

From the wild billows, some unhappy

man

Who liv'd to bless the hermit of the rocks.

But if his generous cares were all in vain, And with slow swell the tide of morning bore

Some blue swol'n cor'se to land; the pale recluse

Dug in the chalk a sepulchre-bove Where the dank sea wrack mark'd the utmost tide,

lines,

Memorials of his sufferings, did not grieve,, That dying in the cause of charity

His spirit from its earthly bondage freed, Had to some better region Aed for ever.

An ode to The Swallow,' is among the pleasantest of our author's poetical trifles.

The gorse is yellow on the heath,

The banks with speedwell flowers are

gay,

The oaks are budding; and beneath, The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath, The silver wreath of May.

The welcome guest of settled Spring,

The Swallow too is come at last; Just at sun-set, when thrushes sing, I saw her dash with rapid wing,

And hail'd her as she pass'd.

Come, summer visitant, attach

To my reed roof your nest of clay,
And let my car your music catch
Low twittering underneath the thatch
At the grey dawn of day.
As fables tell, an Indian Sage,

The Hindostani woods among,
Coold in his desert hermitage,
As if 'twere mark'd in written page,
Translate the wild bird's song.

I wish I did his power possess,

That I might learn, fleet bird, from thee, What our vain systems only guess, And know from what wide wilderness You came across the sea.

I would a little while restrain

Your rapid wing, that I might hear Whether on clouds that bring the rain, You sail'd above the western main, The wind your charioteer.

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