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these are concluded with excellent music, variety of dances, and the excessive applauses of those that are present."

"At these spectacles, and every where else, the English are constantly smoaking tobacco in this manner: they have pipes on purpose, made of clay, into the farther end of which they put the herb, so dry that it may be rubbed into powder; and putting fire to it, they draw the smoak into their mouths, which they puff out again through their nostrils, like funnels, along with plenty of phlegm and detiuxion from the head. In these theatres fruits, such as apples, pears, and nuts, according to the season, are carried about to be sold, as well as ale and wine." p. 132.

The following is the author's description of the manners

of the English:

"The English are serious, like the Germans,—lovers of shew,— liking to be followed wherever they go by whole troops of servants, who wear their master's arms in silver, fastened to their left arms, and are not undeservedly ridiculed for wearing tails hanging down their backs. They excel in dancing and music, for they are active and lively, though of a thicker make than the French: they cut their hair close on the middle of the head, letting it grow on either side: they are good sailors, and better pirates; cunning, treacherous, and thievish. Above three hundred are said to be hanged annually in London; beheading with them is less infamous than hanging. They give the wall as the place of honor. Hawking is the general sport of the gentry. They are more polite in eating than the French; devouring less bread, but more meat, which they roast in perfection. They put a good deal of sugar in their drink: their beds are covered with tapestry, even those of farmers. They are often molested with the scurvy, said to have first crept into England with the Norman conquest. Their houses are commonly of two stories, except in London, where they are of three and four, though but seldom of four; they are built of wood, those of the richer sort with bricks; their roofs are low, and, where the owner has money, covered with lead. They are powerful in the field,— successful against their enemies, — impatient of any thing like slavery,—vastly fond of great noises that fill the ear, such as the firing of cannon, drums, and the ringing of bells; so that it is common for a number of them, that have got a glass in their beads, to go up into some belfry, and ring the bells for hours together, for the sake of exercise. If they see a foreigner very well made, or particularly handsome, they will say, It isa pity he is not an Englishman." p. 156.

With the above whimsical passage, we conclude our extracts from Paul Hentzner, who has certainly noted some particulars which are not to be found elsewhere, and which are equally curious and amusing. We have only to add, that the translation we have made use of, except in one instance of mistranslation, is from the pen of Mr. R. Bentley, once the friend and favorite of Horace Walpole. It is asserted in the preface of the latter, that there are not above four or five copies of the original in England. Mr. Williams reprinted only fifty copies of Bentley's translation of the part relative to England.

Art. III. Pharonnida, a Heroic Poem, by William Chamberlayne, of Shaftesbury, in the County of Dorset.

"IffKt J/eiS5fc. woWd K&iwv eTvpoiaiv Zfxoia.

Horn. Odess. lib. 21.

Printed for Robert Clavel, at the sign of the Stag's Head, near St Gregorie's Church, in St. Paul's Church Yard, 1659, 8vo, pp. 371.

Whilst the stream of time carries down so many of the productions of human ingenuity into total oblivion, it deposits a few, which deserve to be kept in remembrance, upon its silent shores, where they remain until some lucky wanderer discovers, and holds them up to the admiration of the world. Long did the flower to which we now draw the attention of the public, • waste its sweetness on the desert air,' before any industrious bee settled upon its leaves, and extracted a portion of its collected sweets. Until very recently indeed, it has obtained no other notice than a passing recognition of its having existed. We claim not, however, the merit of having first discovered its value; nor have we any title to be so considered, for our readers are aware, that one living author * at least has already given us such a taste of the honey, as to induce us to wish for a more copious supply. Of William Chamberlayne little more is known, than that he was a physician at Shaftesbury in the reign of Charles the First, whose cause during the civil wars he espoused; and, as is to be inferred from the conclusion of the third book, was present at the second battle of Newbury, f However rich he might be in the gifts of nature, he was not very plentifully endowed with those of fortune, as we collect from the beginning of the first book, where he complains of poverty, and the bad reception his poem had met with. In the preface of the poem also he informs us, that fortune had placed him in too low a sphere to be happy in the acquaintance of

* Mr. Campbell: who states that he has found no other mention of Chamberlayne than what is contained in Langbaine. He is however, noticed by Winstanley, Jacob, Wood, and Grainger, but without any further information than that he was the author of this poem, and the play mentioned in the text; and without any comment upon either.

f His poetical labours, in all probability, suffered some interruption from his more warlike occupations, and this supposition is strengthened by the circumstance of the two last books commencing with a new paging, and being printed in a different type.

the age's more celebrated wits. He died on the 11th of January, 1689, having lived to the age of 70 years, and was buried at Shaftesbury, in the church-yard of the Holy Trinity, where his son, Valentine Chamberlayne, erected a monument to his memory. Besides this poem he wrote a tragi-comedy,* called "Love's Victory," which was afterwards acted under the title of " Wits led by the nose, or a Poet's Revenge." Langbaine, in his account of this play, mentions Pharonnida, adding, that though it had nothing to recommend it, yet it appeared in prose in the year 1683, as a novel, under the name of " Eromena, or the Noble Stranger." We think, however, that when our readers have perused the abstract of the story which we propose to give, and the different extracts with which it will be interspersed, they will totally dissent from the judgment pronounced by this useful but tasteless author. The garb, indeed, in which the poem is clothed, is sufficiently uninviting; the materials, to be sure, are rich, but the workmanship is awkward and ungraceful. Yet notwithstanding this inauspicious covering, and the obstructions which the involved, and unharmonious diction, and the poverty and insignificance of the rhymes, f present to the complete enjoyment of the poem, there is a pure and tender strain of feeling and morality, and a richness of imagery, that cannot fail to interest the heart and please the imagination of every lover of poetry. How far it is entitled to the name of a heroic poem, we leave to others to determine; but we cannot help observing, that the vigorous conception of the story, the unity and symmetry of the design, and the sustained dignity of the personages, and of the sentiments, make out a claim to that title, which we are by no means inclined to dispute. The main story is carried on with deep and varied interest, and developed with great, but unequal power; and every incident which might, by possibility, be considered as improbable, is accounted for from plausible causes, with a scrupulousness and care which is very remarkable, when contrasted with the singular carelessness which distinguishes some other parts of the poem. Upon the whole the poem is somewhat too long, arising perhaps, from the absurd and pedantic determination of the author to extend it to precisely five books, each containing the same number of cantos. In a few of the latter cantos,

* Published in 1658.

f To these may be added, the inaccurate printing and erroneo punctuations, which incessantly occur.

his muse soars with a comparatively feeble wing, but she soon resumes her vigour, and again mounts into the sublime regions of impassioned poetry. The genius of Chamberlayne, however, is rather tender and pathetic, than strongand lofty; his narrative rather calm and equable, than rapid and overpowering; but it is at the same time diversified with occasional bursts of deep pathos, of glowing and vehement passion. He delights to wander into the unknown regions of space and eternity; contemplates with solemn pleasure the soul of man, disrobed of its earthly covering, and speculates with earnestness upon its ethereal nature and future destiny. But themore grave and serious parts of this delightful poem, are enlivened and adorned with all the exuberance of a rich and inexhaustible fancy, pure, sparkling, and luminous, as the earth with the dew of heaven. The characters of the personages of the poem are rather general than individual; they are painted with broad shades, rather than with distinct and minute touches. Those of Pharonnida and Argalia, the heroine of the story, and her lover, are of a noble and dignified description; and although a pitch above the tone of the ordinary feelings and actions of humanity, are beings of flesh and blood;—that of Pharonnida, a lofty but gentle minded female, whose irrepressible passion for Argalia, leaves no room in her full heart for the operation of other feelings, is touched oft' with a fine and delicate pencil. But the character of Almanzor, possesses more individuality and fire, than any other in the poem, — ambitious, bold, impetuous, resolute, and unscrupulous of the means necessary to accomplish his objects ; he is also cunning, secret, and undermining—he is audaciously wicked, or sanctimoniously virtuous, as it suits his purpose; he possesses as occasion requires, the savage and unrelenting ferocity of the tiger, or the wily and dangerous stillness of the serpent.—But we will no longer delay introducing our readers to the poem itself. The outline of the story is as follows:

As Ariamnes a Spartan Lord, and a noble train, were one day hunting on the shores of the "far famed Bay of Lepanto," their attention was attracted to a fierce engagement between a Turkish and a Christian ship. Victory was inclining to the side of the Turks, when the combat was suddenly interrupted by a violent storm, which however, soon subsided, and left the "uncurled ocean" spotted only with the wrecks of the lately contending ships. The fury of the elements had not abated the ardour of such of the hostile parties as escaped, and the battle was renewed on shore. The hunters, on coming down to the beach, were struck with the sight of a single Christian, defending himself against a party VOL. I. Part i. F

of the Infidels, by whom he was almost overpowered. They flew to the assistance of this brave warrior, and rescued him from his foes, whom they put to flight. Ariamnes conveyed Argalia, (for such was the name of the stranger) with his wounded friend Aphron, to his palace, where the latter soon recovered from his wounds. The two friends were about to take leave of their noble host, when he was summoned to attend his sovereign, the King of the Morea. The strangers were invited, and promised to accompany him to court, but they were prevented from performing this promise, by the unexpected illness of Aphron. One day, during the convalescence of Aphron, Argalia strayed into a neighbouring forest; and whilst he was reclining under the shade, two females passed at a short distance before him:

"A pair of virgins, fairer than the spring;
Fresher than dews, that, ere the glad birds sing
Their morning carols, drop.'*

Almanzor, a Spartan noble, happened to enter the grove which shadowed the two damsels; and no sooner did he behold, than he advanced towards them, but with such speed as to excite their alarm and immediate flight. Almanzor pursued, and seized one of them, whose name was Florenza. He first attempted to seduce her; but failing in that attempt, he had recourse to violence, and had nearly accomplished his purpose, when Florenza's lover, who was at no great distance, hearing her shrieks, came to her assistance, and fell in endeavouring to effect her rescue. In the meantime Florenza again fled, but in vain; her pursuer again seized her, who

"with her shrieks did fill

The ambient air, struck lately with the still
Voice of harmonious music."—

Argalia, roused from the slumber into which he had fallen, hurried to the spot from which the shrieks proceeded. Almanzor, doubly enraged at being a second time baffled, impetuously assailed him; but his blind fury was no match for the temperate valour of Argalia, under whose hand he would certainly have fallen, but for the interference of his followers, who opportunely arrived in search of their master. They fell upon Argalia, and with the loss of two of Almanzor's relatives, had nearly overpowered him, when a second troop came up: finding Almanzor wounded, they very wisely concluded Argalia to have been the aggressor, and seized and conveyed him to the king's palace as a murderer. In this part of the narrative, the poet has introduced a short episode,

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