Polihele's Essays on Marriage, &c.

With respect to Marriage, is it the opinion of the Reviewer, that " the connexion between the man and the woman should only subsist so long as the efforts of both are essential to the rearing of their children?" Surely not. But such might be inferred from "the fine argument of Lord Kaimes," as stated by the Critic. And Professor Millar's illustrations" are to me obscure. Dr. Beattie's admirable essay "the Attachments of Kindred" would set all right. In the volume of "Dissertations" now before me, I had forgotten the essay on Kindred;" and very lately opened to it, by mere accident.

on

Of Roman Adulteries we have, doubtless, abundant proof. But I have drawn a line of evident distinction between ancient Rome, and Rome in the days of Horace, and of Juvenal, and Martial, and Seneca.

For the metaphysics of the Essay on Taste, it does not appear to me that the Reviewer and myself essentially disagree. Taste (as he most happily expresses it) is in landscape, "a knowledge of fine scenes, and assimilation to them." But this assimilation cannot exist without feeling and fancy.

My little volume is truly a “furrago libelli," where next rises into notice "the Deserted Village-school." The first edition of this poem was published at Edinburgh, under the direction of Sir Walter Scott, who considered it as a counterpart to Shenstone's "Schoolmistress," not as, in any respect, a copy. The stanzas, in both poems, are Spenserian. But the subject of the Deserted School" is perfectly new, from the first stanza to the last. The Stanzas most resembling Shenstone (though from the sentiment very distant from imitation) shall, by your leave, be submitted to your

readers.

I must first, however, revert to the "Traditions critique, where in my

and Recollections," the Reviewer thinks I have treated too leniently the character of Dr. Wolcot: but it was the character of Dr. W. in earlier life. Dreadful is it to consider, that as he grew older, he became more and more licentious. So that the term "flagiti ousness" is by no means inapplicable; and he was indeed (as I have represented him in the last chapter of my "Recollections") a hoary sinner. Yet I cannot conceive that, for this reason, I ought to withhold from Wolcot

[July,

the praise which is due to talent; or to stifle all my youthful recollections & whilst I remember his unwearied attentions to my father in illness-attentions which, under Providence, prolonged a life so dear to me! Nor do I fear contamination, whilst I turn over those unpublished Poems of Wolcot, which I happen to possess; especially that pathetic epistle from Queen Matilda to her brother George III. and that fine Christmas Hymn or Carol, which we should be willing to derive from Christian feeling.

Let me now, Mr. Urban, beg your pardon for thus detaining you. And let me intreat your Reviewer to take in good part what I have ventured to intimate or suggest to him; again assuring him, that I sincerely thank him for his good opinion of me, and that I am gratified by those expressions of approbation which far outweigh the exceptions he may have made to some passages in my writings.

it

In allusion to the Schoolmistress," is asked:

“Ah! whither in a store of knowledge rich,

Ah, whither exiled that far-dreaded Dame, Whose learning stamp'd the credit of a witch (Such is its fate too oft) on honest fame? Where now that rod which, with unerring

aim,

Would idler strait in distant corner smite...
Those ruthless twigs announcing sin and

Then sudden, startled at the sight of me,
In merry mood, a stave of Israel's song:
She threw a quickening glance her imps

Poltohele's Deserted Village School.

8

Fly Leaves, No. XIII.-Strode's 'Poems.

On a Gentlewoman walking in the
Snowe.

I sawe faire Cloris walke alone,
When feathered rayne came softly downe,
And Jove descended from his tower
To court her in a silver shower.
The wanton snowe flewe to her breast,
Like little birds into their nest,
And overcame with whitenes there
For grief it thaw'd into a teare,
Thence falling on her garments hemme,
To deck her freez'd into a gemme.

W. ST.

In your sterne beauty I can see
What ere in Ætna wonders bee,
If coles out of the topp doe flye,
Hott flames doe gush out of your eye :
If frost lye on the ground belowe,
Your breast is white and cold as snowe:
The sparkes that sett my hart on fire,
Refuse to melt your owne desire.
The frost that byndes the chilly breast,
With double fire hath mee opprest:
Both heat and cold a league have made,
And leaving yow, they mee invade :
The hearth its proper flame withstands,
When ice itselfe heates others hands.

W. S.

Song.

[July,

Keepe on your maske and hide your eye,
For with beholding you I dye;
Your fatall beauty, Gorgon-like,
Dead with astonishment will strike;
Your piercing eyes, if them I see,
Are worse than Basilisks to mee.
Shutt from myne eyes those hills of snowe,
Their melting valleye doe not showe:
Those azure pathes lead to dispaire,
O vex mee not, forbeare! forbeare!
For while I thus in torments dwell,
The sight of heaven is worse than hell.
Your dayntie voyce and warbling breath,
Sound like a sentence past for death:
Your dangling tresses are become,
Like instruments of finall, doome :
O! if an angel torture so,
When life is gone where shall I goe?
W. ST.

Of Death and Resurrection.

Like to the rowling of an eye,
Or like a starre shott from the skye;
Or like a hand vpon a clock,
Or like a wave vpon a rock:
Or like a winde, or like a flame,

Or like false newes which people frame :
Even such is man of equall stay,
Whose very growth leads to decay.

The eye is turn'd, the starre downe
bendeth,
[scendeth :
The hand doeth steale, the wave de-
The winde is spent, the flame vnfir'd,

The newes disprov'd, man's life expir'd.
Like to an eye, which sleepe doeth chayne,
Or like a starre, whose fall wee fayne :
Or like the shade on Ahaz watch,
Or like the wave which gulfes doe snatch,
Or like a winde or flame that's past,
Or smother'd newes confirm'd at last;
Even so man's life pawn'd in the grave,
Wayts for a riseing it must have.

The eye still sees, the starre still blaz-
eth,
[eth,
The shade goes back, the wave escap-
The wind is turn'd, the flame reviv'd,
The newes renew'd, and man new liv'd.
W. ST.
EU. HOOD.

her Majestys Surgeon Aurist with whom she non resides.
in Princes Street, Hanover Square.