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sate for defects of composition? The untimely death of dogs, cats,
and birds, has often been bewailed with wit and ingenuity in the Ian-
guage of sorrow: but the merit of these fugitive pieces did not rest
on the name of Cæsar, Pompey, or Selima.

Though the author calls on a Muse in the first stanza, he bids her
get about her business in the second :

Amid the sacred griefs which rend my heart,
What sympathizing Muse will bear a part?'-
Far hence be all the giddy train

Of fabled inspiration, light and vain.'

The title of SIDNEY, which, like LYCIDAS, seems merely to imply
an individual, must perplex and embarrass those English readers who
have not had a Sir Hugh Evans to tell them that "there is numbers
in nouns," or have never heard of the Greeks writing and speaking in
the dual number: for Sidney here implies two brothers sharing the
same melancholy fate. The sorrow 'seems equally fictitious with the
name. The author may, however, boast at least one requisite for a
poet: for he invents not only the sorrow but the occasion; and in-
deed he has found so many scraps and allusions to his purpose in
Milton, Gray, and other plaintive bards, that his compilation re-
minds us of what musicians call, not a Monody, but a Medley.
Art. 35. Cambro-Britons, an Historical Play, in Three Acts. First
performed at the Theatre-Royal, Haymarket, July 21, 1798.
With a Preface. Written by James Boaden, Esq. Svo.
Robinsons. 1798.

28.

D! B....Y

ope its

Historical plays very rarely observe the truth of history. Faithfully to exhibit the march and issue of events in real life would not exactly answer the play-wright's purpose. Fiction must be invoked, in order to give a continued interest to the drama; and probability must be outraged, in order to surprise and give stage effect. Ghosts and spectres have lately received some countenance, to the no small satisfaction of the dramatic writer; who is happy, when put to a difficulty, to avail himself of the ready assistance of these preternatural beings. Hence a splendid and amusing scene is exhibited to the gal Ieries, but good taste is always disgusted. Mr. Boaden, in order to produce a sudden reconciliation between Llewellyn (the hero of the piece) and his brother David, makes the tomb of their mother "6 ponderous and marble jaws" to vomit forth her ghost; which being accomplished, the apparition magnificently ascends to the upper regions! Thus, by the intervention of this cerulean-coloured ghost, the angry hot blooded Welshmen are prevented from destroying each other; a momentary change from hatred to love is effected; and David, who just before was in rebellion against his brother Llewellyn and anxious to deprive him of his mistress, returns to his allegiance, renounces his passion, and undertakes to conduct Elinor from Chester, where she was in captivity, to Llewellyn's retreat in the fastnesses of Snowdon. It must be confessed that this maternal glost is not invoked for nothing, for no sprite could do more in less time: but was it necessary to oblige the tombs to give up their dead, in order to bring a rebellious brother to a sense of his duty? The

stage

stage cannot produce its proper moral effect by such a conduct. Are ghosts necessary to frighten to repentance? Is conscience so weak that it must be supernaturally aided before it can do its duty? Miserable erroneous doctrine! Would it not have been more judicious in the poet, to have brought the offending brother to seek for reconciliation with his prince by "compunctious visitings of nature?"

The piece in other respects is not ill conducted, and the characters are well delineated. Welsh scenery and Welsh bards are introduced; and Llewellyn, instead of being conducted to a miserable end, triumphs, and becomes the ally of Edward. The play abounds with loyal sentiments, and is calculated to inspire ardor against an invading,

enemy.

Art. 36. The Patrons of Genius: a Satirical Poem. With Anec-
dotes of their Dependents, Votaries, and Toad-eaters. Part the
First. 4to.
2s. 6d. Parsons. 1798.

This poem will probably be read by all parties, as the author calls "a spade a spade," and favours neither power nor person, nor profession. It is written on the plan (so often adopted) of the first satire of Persius.

With respect to the little patronage at present bestowed on genius by the great, we must observe that the time,for expecting specific sums for dedications, and remuneration for flattery, is past. Authors are now too numerous, and the great are too poor, for such commerce. If a work has real merit, the PUBLIC does more for it, by enabling the booksellers to give a price for the copy-right, than, in times when a Mecænas could be found, any author could ever expect from individual patronage. Pope, the first poet who ceased to solicit patronage, (except for the subscription to his Homer,) was the first who acquired a considerable fortune by the sale of his writings. Every man can dedicate, but every man cannot produce a great work. It is well known that, in all countries, as civilization approaches, hospitality recedes: so in literature, while the writers and readers are few, patronage is wanting to encourage ingenuity and diligence to instruct and amuse mankind.

Mo-y,

The personages assailed in this satire have a sturdy foe to encounter. If, unluckily, some of our friends be among them, however we may wish to mount the stage in their defence, our interference might, possibly, have no other effect than to render future flagellation still more violent. We must therefore leave them to fight their own battles-for, though Broughton, the Pugilist and Beaf-eater, when in Germany, having had a quarrel with some soldiers of a Hanoverian regiment, is said to have offered to fight every individual of that corps, provided he might have leave to return home when he had done; we cannot screw our courage to the striking place" tight enough to fight for a whole regiment maltraité by one who might answer, perhaps, if asked his name,-" my name is Legion."

We shall therefore, without attempting a defence of the nominal culprits, merely bear our testimony to the abilities of the judge, and present our readers with the exordium to his poem; which will at once manifest the author's design, and serve as a specimen of the polish and force of his numbers; • Reat

226

Beat to the ground at life's meridian stage,
Like fruit mature by equinoctial rage;
O'erwhelm'd with ills, by many a care consum'd,
Misfortune's child, to disappointment doom'd :
Perplex'd, dejected, doubtful what to do,

I summon'd all my friends :-My friends were two ;
One was Petronius, Cassius one by name ;-
"Twas but advice I wanted-and they came.
The first, endow'd with ev'ry gentle grace,
Smooth was his speech, and smoother was his face ;
Trim his apparel, courtier-like his air-
A wond'rous fav'rite of the young and fair.
Nor yet of worth or honour did he lack:
Strong, tho' complying, like a supple-jack.

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My other friend was hewn from sterner stuff.
Rude, unrefin'd, impracticable, rough,
Beneath a misanthrope's unseemly crust,
He hid a heart courageous, kind, and just:
Thought, war, and travel, and the hand of Care,
Before the time had stripp'd his forehead bare;
Had robb'd his eyes of fire, his cheeks of bloom,
And o'er his visage cast a turbid gloom :
Yet still with nerves unbroke, and brow elate,
Firm, proud, and patient, he derided Fate.

So the tall oak, by winds impetuous left
With mangled branches, and of leaves bereft,
Amid the tempest lifts its head on high,
And nods defiance at the threat'ning sky.

These friends and I were met in close divan;
And thus the tenor of their counsel ran :-

We shall not cite personal accusations in the subsequent text,-nor the notes, which are written with still more spleen and personal obloquy, but hasten to p. 36; where, after a bitter invective against the Whig Club in the aggregate, the poet exclaims:

No Whig is Cassius:- I should blush to see

My name enroll'd in such society:

A drinking, brawling, singing, motley crew,
Made up of rogues of ev'ry shape and hue:
Insolvent debtors, swindlers, gamesters, rooks,

Discarded statesmen, disappointed dukes.

Gods! how my bile o'erflows when men like these

Corrupt society's most loathsome lees;

Amaze the welkin with an empty cry

Of Justice, Rights of Man, and Liberty,

As if the villain, whom no ties can bind

In private life, can cherish all his kind!

On that dread day, for come it surely must,
When w'r abus'd shall render up its trust,
O! my poor country, ere thou lift'st the lance,
Contemplate well the destinies of France.

See

1

See there! Oh! see o'er all her fertile plains,
With killing gripe, how cruel famine reigns!
See towns demolish'd, villages consum'd!
See all that's virtuous to the scaffold doom'd!
And listen how the troublous air rebounds
With an accurst society of sounds!

A horrid concert-harmony of hell—
The victim's dying groan,-the murd❜rer's yell;
The whoop of civil war,-the cannon's roar,
While Discord claps her wings, distilling gore,
And Tyranny's dark genius laughs to see
The drops pollute the face of Liberty !-
Whose hateful work was this? The Whigs of Gaul,
Their country's boasting champions, did it all.
With furious rage they pull'd a tyrant down,

And then, with rage more fell, set up their own.'

Notwithstanding this Philippic against the Whigs, the author seems to have no partiality for Tories :-neither the Royal Family nor nobles are flattered, nor ever supposed to do any thing right:-nor can we rank him with Jacobins and Revolutionists.

He complains in his preface, and in the opening of the poem, of something we know not what :-but if ever he was in humour with the world before his misfortune happened, it has had a mar vellous effect on his temper! His disorder is, peradventure, the jaundice, which has discoloured persons as well as things :-or, perhaps, his complaint is bilious.

Art. 37. The Battle of the Nile, a Poem by William Sotheby,
Esq. 4to. 28. 6d. Hatchard. 1799.

We hope that we shall not offend any of the preceding patriotic candidates for poetical fame, who have celebrated this signal and important victory, if we should deem the poem before us the best production on the subject, that has come to our knowlege. It possesses more nerve, more poetry, and a wider range of detail and description.

DrB....y.

The events in Egypt, subsequently to Buonaparte's landing, are accurately related, in lines which would not disgrace Dryden. One inaccuracy, however, will be laid to Mr. Sotheby's charge, arising from credulity in the rumour of the death of the French leader, p. 13, where it is said:

Hark, the loud voice of rumour loads the gale,
And Europe spreads from realm to realm the tale :
He rests in death, the dream of Glory o'er,
He rests untimely on a barbarous shore !-
Not in the front of War, mid Armies slain !-
Fell the bold Conqueror, bleeding on the plain,
While Glory wav'd her banner o'er his head,
And sooth'd the hero, as his spirit fled:
Lo! there he lies, by treach'ry girt around;
The grim Assassin sternly eyes the wound,
Taunts the Invader, as he groans in Death,

And loads with Egypt's curse his parting breath.?

but,

but, as Prior says:

"Odzooks! must one swear to the truth of a song?"

Mr. Sotheby was not singular in his belief of this rumour, which had penetrated every part of Europe; nor is the fallacy yet totally discredited among those who so ardently wished for the event.

After the lines just cited, Mr. S. paints, with a glowing pencil, many of the revolutionary horrors in France, and the insidious arts with which she compassed the ruin, devastation, carnage, and plunder of other countries; particularly Switzerland. Speaking of the happiness of the latter, he says:

• Did none resist ?-before the invading host
None fall in arms upon his native coast?
A race went forth the women mock'd at fear,
Fought mid the ranks, and fell the warrior near-
A race went forth-the grandsire, father, son,
March'd side by side and deem'd the battle won ;—
March'd where their sires of old had proudly bled,
And clash'd their iron shields as Austria fled!-
Ah, hapless race! in vain each bosom glow'd,
And life, thro' all, one kindred current flow'd!
Gaul! by thy fraud subdu'd, the patriot band
Dy'd with fraternal blood cach murderous hand:
While thou aloof, upon the mountain height
Towerd'st like a vulture hanging o'er the fight;
And, when the slaughter ceas'd upon the plain, į
Did'st rush in triumph down, and spoil the slain.'

The last of these lines, we think, is the most feeble in the poem. Did'st has scarcely been admitted in good poetry, since it was stigmatized by Pope :

"While expletives their feeble aid do join.”

Mr. S. admirably describes our military ardour in arming to repel invasion-the Foe's vain attempts on Ireland-and his threats against England-then bids Albion beware!

• Trust not their oath, till heav'n accepts their pray'r—
Have we not seen their harlot Goddess crown'd,

While frantic elders howl'd the shrine around?
Seen their pledg'd hand, to still their rav'nous host,
Unbar th' associate town, and ransom'd coast?
On fear's bow'd neck, their yoke of freedom chain,
Force states, self-rul'd, beneath a tyrant reign;
And cast proud Venice, that espous'd the wave,
At Austria's feet, a tributary slave -'

-and terminates the poem by recommending firmness in resistance,
and in the support of our government and religion.

EDUCATION, &c.

Art. 38. An Introduction to English Grammar: intended also to assist young Persons in the Study of other Languages, and to remove many of the Difficulties which impede their Progress in Learning. 4to 2s. 6d. Phillips, Lombard-Street,

4to2s.

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DrB....y.

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