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passages, and even his eloquent and splendid The golden bits with flowery studs are decked, versification, for want of variety of cadence, be- And knots of flowers the crimson reins connect. comes monotonous and fatiguing. There is no

And now on earth the silver axle rings, repose, no cessation from the glare of his bold

And the shell sinks upon its slender springs; images, his compound epithets, and high-toned

Light from her airy seat the goddess bounds, melody. He had attained to rare perfection in

And steps celestial press the pansied grounds. the mechanism of poetry, but wanted those im

Fair Spring advancing calls her feathered quire,

And tunes to softer notes her laughing lyre ; pulses of soul and sense, and that guiding taste

Bids her gay hours on purple pinions move, which were required to give it vitality, and direct And arms her zephyrs with the shafts of love. it to its true objects. Invocation to the Goddess of Botany.

Destruction of Sennacherib's Army by a Pestilential

Wind.
From the Botanic Garden.

From the Economy of Vegetation.
‘Stay your rude steps ! whose throbbing breasts infold
The legion-fiends of glory and of gold !

From Ashur's vales when proud Sennacherib trod, Stay, whose false lips seductive simpers part,

Poured his swoln heart, dehed the living God, While cunning nestles in the harlot heart !

Urged with incessant shouts his glittering powers, For you no dryads dress the roseate bower,

And Judah shook through all her massy towers; For you no nymphs their sparkling vases pour ;

Round her sad altars press the prostrate crowd, Unmarked by you, light graces swim the green,

Hosts beat their breasts, and suppliant chieftains And hovering Cupids aim their shafts unseen.

bowed ; But thou whose mind the well-attempered ray

Loud shrieks of matrons thrilled the troubled air, Of taste and virtue lights with purer day ;

And trembling virgins rent their scattered hair ; Whose finer sense with soft vibration owns

High in the midst the kneeling king adored, With sweet responsive sympathy of tones;

Spread the blaspheming scroll before the Lord, So the fair flower expands its lucid form

Raised his pale hands, and breathed his pausing sighs, To meet the sun, and shuts it to the storm ;

And fixed on heaven his dim imploring eyes. For thee my borders nurse the fragrant wreath,

'O mighty God, amidst thy seraph throng My fountains murmur, and my zephyrs breathe ;

Who sit’st sublime, the judge of right and wrong ; Slow slides the painted snail, the gilded fly

Thine the wide earth, bright sun, and starry zone, Smooths his fine down, to charm thy curious eye ;

That twinkling journey round thy golden throne ; On twinkling fins my pearly pinions play,

Thine is the crystal source of life and light, Or win with sinuous train their trackless way;

And thine the realms of death's eternal night. My plumy pairs in gay embroidery dressed,

O bend thine ear, thy gracious eye incline, Form with ingenious bill the pensile nest,

Lo! Ashur's king blasphemes thy holy shrine, To love's sweet notes attune the listening dell,

Insults our offerings, and derides our vows. And Echo sounds her soft symphonious shell.

O strike the diadem from his impious brows, "And if with thee some hapless maid should stray,

Tear from his murderous hand the bloody rod, Disastrous love companion of her way,,

And teach the trembling nations “ Thou art God !!! Oh, lead her timid steps to yonder glade,

Sylphs ! in what dread array with pennons broad, Whose arching cliffs depending alders shade ;

Onward ye floated o'er the ethereal road ; Where, as meek evening wakes her temperate breeze,

Called each dank steam the reeking marsh exhales, And moonbeams glitter through the trembling trees,

Contagious vapours and volcanic gales ; The rills that gurgle round shall soothe her ear,

Gave the soft south with poisonous breath to blow, The weeping rocks shall number tear for tear ;

And rolled the dreadful whirlwind on the foe ! There, as sad Philomel, alike forlorn,

Hark! o'er the camp the venomed tempest sings, Sings to the night from her accustomed thorn ;

Man falls on man, on buckler, buckler rings ; While at sweet intervals each falling note

Groan answers groan, to anguish, anguish yields, Sighs in the gale and whispers round the grot,

And death's loud accents shake the tented fields ! The sister woe shall calm her aching breast,

High rears the fiend his grinning jaws, and wide And softer slumbers steal her cares to rest.

Spans the pale nations with colossal stride, Winds of the north ! restrain your icy gales

Waves his broad falchion with uplifted hand,
Nor chill the bosom of these happy vales !

And his vast shadow darkens all the land.
Hence in dark heaps, ye gathering clouds, revolve !
Disperse, ye lightnings, and ye mists, dissolve !

Death of Eliza at the Battle of Minden.
Hither, emerging from yon orient skies,

From the Loves of the Plants.
Botanic goddess, bend thy radiant eyes ;
O'er these soft scenes assume thy gentle reign,

Now stood Eliza on the wood-crowned height,
Pomona, Ceres, Flora in thy train ;

O’er Minden's plain, spectatress of the fight; O'er the still dawn thy placid smile effuse,

Sought with bold eye amid the bloody strife And with thy silver sandals print the dews;

Her dearer self, the partner of her life;
In noon's bright blaze thy vermeil vest unfold,

From hill to hill the rushing host pursued,
And wave thy emerald banner starred with gold.' And viewed his banner, or believed she viewed.
Thus spoke the genius as he stept along,

Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread,
And bade these lawns to peace and truth belong ; Fast by his hand one lisping boy she led ;
Down the steep slopes he led with modest skill

And one fair girl amid the loud alarm The willing pathway and the truant rill,

Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm; Stretched o'er the marshy vale yon willowy mound, While round her brows bright beams of Honour dart, Where shines the lake amid the tusted ground ;

And Love's warm eddies circle round her heart. Raised the young woodland, smoothed the wavy green, Near and more near the intrepid beauty pressed, And gave to beauty all the quiet scene.

Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest; She comes ! the goddess ! through the whispering air, Saw on his helm, her virgin hands inwove, Bright as the morn descends her

blushing car ;

Bright stars of gold, and mystic knots of love ; Each circling wheel a wreath of Aowers entwines, Heard the exulting shout, “They run! they run!' And, gemmed with flowers, the silken harness shines ; "Great God!' she cried, 'he's safe! the battle 's won!' 54

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A ball now hisses through the airy tides
Some fury winged it, and some demon guides !

Song to Echo.-From the same.
Parts the fine locks her graceful head that deck,
Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck;

Sweet Echo ! sleeps thy vocal shell,
The red stream, issuing from her azure veins,

Where this high arch o'erhangs the dell; Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains.

While Tweed, with sun-reflecting streams, Áh me!' she cried, and sinking on the ground,

Checkers thy rocks with dancing beams ? Kissed her dear babes, regardless of the wound ;

Here may no clamours harsh intrude, O cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn!

No brawling hound or clarion rude ; Wait, gushing life, O wait my love's return !'

Here no fell beast of midnight prowl, Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far !

And teach thy tortured cliffs to howl. The angel Pity shuns the walks of war !

Be thine to pour these vales along O spare, ye war-hounds, spare their tender age;

Some artless shepherd's evening song; On me, on me,' she cried, “exhaust your rage !'

While night's sweet bird from yon high spray Then with weak arms her weeping babes caressed,

Responsive listens to his lay.
And, sighing, hid them in her blood-stained vest.
From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies,

And if, like me, some love-lorn maid
Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes ;

Should sing her sorrows to thy shade, Eliza's name along the camp he calls,

Oh! soothe her breast, ye rocks around, * Eliza' echoes through the canvas walls ;

With softest sympathy of sound. Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps

tread, O’er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,

MISS SEWARD. Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood,

ANNA SEWARD (1747–1809) was the daughter Lo! dead Eliza weltering in her blood ! Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds,

of the Rev. Mr Seward, canon-residentiary of With open arms and sparkling eye he bounds :

Lichfield, himself a poet, and one of the editors of Speak low,' he cries, and gives his little hand,

Beaumont and Fletcher. This lady was early • Mamma's asleep upon the dew-cold sand;'

trained to a taste for poetry, and, before she was Poor weeping babe, with bloody fingers pressed, nine years of age, she could repeat the first three And tried with pouting lips her milkless breast; books of Paradise Lost. Even at this time she Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake

says, she was charmed with the numbers of Milton. Why do you weep ?–Mamma will soon awake.' Miss Seward wrote several elegiac poems-an "She 'll wake no more!’ the hapless mourner cried, Elegy to the Memory of Captain Cook, a Monody Upturned his eyes, and clasped his hands and sighed; on the Death of Major André, &c.—which, from Stretched on the ground, a while entranced he lay,

the popular nature of the subjects, and the aniAnd pressed warm kisses on the lifeless clay ;

mated though inflated style of the composition, And then upsprung with wild convulsive start,

enjoyed great celebrity. 'Darwin complimented And all the father kindled in his heart ; O heavens !' he cried, my first rash vow forgive ;

her as the inventress of epic elegy ;' and she was These bind to earth, for these I pray to live !'

known by the name of the Swan of Lichfield. A Round his chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest,

poetical novel, entitled Louisa, was published by And clasped them sobbing to his aching breast. *

Miss Seward in 1782, and passed through several editions. After bandying compliments with the

poets of one generation, Miss Seward engaged Sir Song to May.- From the 'Loves of the Plants.' Walter Scott in a literary correspondence, and Born in yon blaze of orient sky,

bequcathed to him for publication three volumes Sweet May! thy radiant form unfold ;

of her poetry, which he pronounced execrable. At Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,

the same time she left her correspondence to And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.

Constable, and that publisher gave to the world

six volumes of her letters. Both collections were For thee the fragrant zephyrs blow,

unsuccessful. The applauses of Miss Seward's For thee descends the sunny shower ;

early admirers were only calculated to excite The rills in softer murmurs flow,

ridicule, and the vanity and affectation which were And brighter blossoms gem the bower. her besetting sins, destroyed equally her poetry

and prose. Some of her letters, however, are Light graces decked in flowery wreaths

written with spirit and discrimination.
And tiptoe joys their hands combine ;
And Love his sweet contagion breathes,
And, laughing, dances round thy shrine.

THE ROLLIAD.
Warm with new life, the glittering throng

A series of political satires, commencing about
On quivering fin and rustling wing,

1784, and written by a few men of wit and fashion, Delighted join their votive song,

attracted much attention, and became extensively And hail thee Goddess of the spring !

popular. They appeared first in a London newspaper, the earliest--from which the name of the

collection was derived-being a satire on Colonel, * Those who have the opportunity may compare this death-scene (much to the advantage of the living author) with that of Gertrude afterwards Lord Rolle. The Rolliad-consisting of Wyoming, which may have been suggested, very remotely and of pretended criticism on an imaginary epic poem

Sir Walter Scott excels in painting battle-pieces, as overseen by some interested spec: Laureateship, and Political Eclogues. The design

—was followed by Probationary Odes for the Flodden, that the mighty Minstrel of the North may possibly of the Probationary Odes was probably suggested have caught the idea of the latter from the Lichfield botanist; but by Pope's ridicule of Cibber; and the death of oh, how has he triumphed I—Montgomery's Lectures on Poetry, Whitehead, the poet-laureate, in 1785, was seized 1833.

tator.

18

upon by the Whig wits as affording an opportun- Nor rum-contractors think his speech too long, ity for satirising some of the political and literary While words, like treacle, trickle from his tongue. characters of the day, conspicuous as members

O soul congenial to the souls of Rolles !or supporters of the government. Pitt, Dundas,

Whether you tax the luxury of coals, Jenkinson (Lord Liverpool), Lord Thurlow, Kenyon,

Or vote some necessary millions more

To feed an Indian friend's exhausted store. Sir Cecil Wray, Dr Prettyman (afterwards Bishop

Fain would I praise--if I like thee could praiseof Winchester), and others, were the objects of

Thy matchless virtue in congenial lays. these humorous sallies and personal invectives;

Crit, on the Rolliad, No. 2. while among literary men, Thomas Warton, Sir John Hawkins, and Macpherson (the translator

WILLIAM GIFFORD. of Ossian), were selected for attack. The contributors to this gallery of burlesque portraits and WILLIAM GIFFORD, a poet, translator, and critic, clever caricatures were : 1. DR LAURENCE (called afforded a remarkable example of successful appli"French Laurence') the friend of Burke, who was cation to science and literature under the most the chief editor or director of the satires : he died unfavourable circumstances. He was born at Ashin 1809.

2. GENERAL RICHARD FITZPATRICK burton, in Devonshire, in April 1756. His father (1747-1813), a brother of the last Earl of Upper had been a painter and glazier, but both the Ossory, who was long in parliament, and held parents of the poet died when he was young; and successively the offices of Secretary-at-war and after some little education, he was, at the age of Irish Secretary. Fitzpatrick was the intimate thirteen, placed on board a coasting-vessel by his friend of Charles James Fox-a fact recorded on godfather, a man who was supposed to have benehis tomb—and his quatrain on that eminent fited himself at the expense of Gifford's parents. statesman may be quoted as remarkable for con- ' It will be easily conceived,' he says, 'that my life densed and happy expression :

was a life of hardship. I was not only “a ship

boy on the high and giddy mast," but also in the A patriot's even course he steered, Mid faction's wildest storms unmoved ;

cabin, where every menial office fell to my lot ; By all who marked his mind revered,

yet if I was restless and discontented, I can safely By all who knew his heart beloved.

say it was not so much on account of this, as of

my being precluded from all possibility of reading : 3. RICHARD TICKELL, the grandson of Addison's as my master did not possess, nor do I recollect friend, and the brother-in-law of Sheridan, besides seeing, during the whole time of my abode with his contributions to the Rolliad, was author of him, a single book of any description, except the The Wreath of Fashion and other poetical pieces, Coasting Pilot.' Whilst thus pursuing his life of and of a lively political pamphlet entitled Anticipa- a cabin-boy, Gifford was often seen by the fishtion, 1778. Tickell was a commissioner of stamps ; women of his native town running about the beach he was a great favourite in society; yet in al in a ragged jacket and trousers. They mentioned moment of despondency he threw himself from a this to the people of Ashburton, and never withwindow in Hampton Court Palace, November 4, out commiserating his change of condition. This 1793, and was killed on the spot. 4. JOSEPH tale, often repeated, awakened at length the pity RICHARDSON (1758-1803) was author of a comedy, of the auditors, and as the next step, their resentcalled The Fugitive, and was partner with Sheridan ment against the man who had reduced him to in Drury Lane Theatre. Among the other contrib- such a state of wretchedness. His godfather was utors to the Rolliad were LORD JOHN TOWNSEND on this account induced to recall him from the (1757-1833); Mr GEORGE ELLIS, the poetical sea, and put him again to school. He made rapid antiquary and friend of Scott; Sir R. ADAIR; progress, and even hoped to succeed his old and and GENERAL BURGOYNE, author of some dra- infirm schoolmaster. In his fifteenth year, howmatic pieces. All these were gay, fashionable, and ever, his godfather, conceiving that he had got somewhat hard-living men, whose political satire learning enough, and that his own duty towards and malice, as Moore has remarked, 'from the him was fairly discharged, put him apprentice to fancy with which it is mixed up, like certain kinds a shoemaker. Gifford hated his new profession of fireworks, explodes in sparkles.' Some of their with a perfect hatred. At this time he possessed sallies, however, are coarsely personal, and often but one book in the world, and that was a treatise irreverent in style and allusion. The topics of on algebra, of which he had no knowledge; but their satire are now in a great measure forgotten meeting with Fenning's Introduction, he mastered -superseded by other party-men and party- both works. “This was not done,' he states, 'withmeasures; and the very, qualities which gave it out difficulty. I had not a farthing on earth, nor immediate and splendid success, have sunk it a friend to give me one : pen, ink, and paper, sooner in oblivion.

therefore-in despite of the flippant remark of

Lord Orford-were, for the most part, as comCharacter of Mr Pitt.

pletely out of my reach as a crown and sceptre.

There was indeed a resource, but the utmost Pert without fire, without experience sage,

caution and secrecy were necessary in applying Young, with more art than Shelburne gleaned from it. I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as posage,

sible, and wrought my problems on them with a Too proud from pilfered greatness to descend,

blunted awl : for the rest, my memory was tenaToo humble not to call Dundas his friend, In solemn dignity and sullen state,

cious, and I could multiply and divide by it to a This new Octavius rises to debate !

great extent. He next tried poetry, and some of Mild and more mild he sees each placid row

his lamentable doggerel’ falling into the hands Of country gentlemen with rapture glow;

of Mr Cookesley, a benevolent surgeon of AshHe sees, convulsed with sympathetic throbs,

burton, that gentleman set about a subscription Apprentice peers and deputy nabobs.

for purchasing the remainder of the time of his

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apprenticeship, and enabling him to procure a Whate'er we paint—a grot, a flower, a bird, better education. The scheme was successful ; Heavens, how we sweat ! laboriously absurd ! and in little more than two years, Gifford had

Words of gigantic bulk and uncouth sound, made such extraordinary application, that he was

In rattling triads the long sentence bound;

While points with points, with periods periods jar, pronounced fit for the university. The place of

And the whole work seems one continued war ! Biblical Lecturer was procured for him at Exeter

Is not this sad ? College, and this, with such occasional assistance

F.—'Tis pitiful, Heaven knows; from the country as Mr Cookesley undertook to

'Tis wondrous pitiful. E'en take the prose : provide, was thought sufficient to enable him to

But for the poetry-oh, that, my friend, live, at least till he had taken a degree. An ac- I still aspire-nay, smile not-to defend. cidental circumstance led to Gifford's advance

You praise our sires, but, though they wrote with force, ment. He had been accustomed to correspond Their rhymes were vicious, and their diction coarse ; on literary subjects with a person in London, his We want their strength ; agreed ; but we atone, letters being inclosed in covers, and sent, to save For that, and more, by sweetness all our own.

For instance—' Hasten to the lawny vale, postage, to Lord Grosvenor. One day he inadvertently omitted the direction, and his lordship,

Where yellow morning breathes her saffron gale,

And bathes the landscape'necessarily supposing the letter to be meant for

P.-Pshaw ; I have it here. himself, opened and read it. He was struck with

'A voice seraphic grasps my

ening ear : the contents; and after seeing the writer, and hear

Wondering I gaze; when lo! methought afar, ing him relate the circumstances of his life, under

More bright than dauntless day's imperial star, took the charge of his present support and future

A godlike form advances.' establishment; and, till this last could be effected

F.—You suppose to his wish, invited him to come and reside with These lines perhaps too turgid ; what of those ? him. “These,' says the grateful scholar,' were not 'The mighty mother'words of course : they were more than fulfilled in

P.-Now, 'tis plain you sneer,

For Weston's self could find no semblance here : every point. I did go and reside with him, and I experienced a warm and cordial reception, and a

Weston ! who slunk from truth's imperious light, kind and affectionate esteem, that has known

Swells like a filthy toad with secret spite, neither diminution nor interruption from that hour And, envying the fame he cannot hope, to this, a period of twenty years.' Part of this

Spits his black venom at the dust of Pope.

Reptile accursed !-O‘memorable long, time, it may be remarked, was spent in attending

If there be force in virtue or in song,' the earl's eldest son, Lord Belgrave, on a tour of

O injured bard ! accept the grateful strain, Europe, which must have tended greatly to inform

Which I, the humblest of the tuneful train, and expand the mind of the scholar. Gifford With glowing heart, yet trembling hand, repay, appeared as an author in 1794. His first produc- For many a pensive, many a sprightly lay ! tion was a satirical poem entitled The Baviad, So may thy varied verse, from age to age, which was directed against a class of sentimental Inform the simple, and delight the sage. poetasters of that day, usually passing under the collective appellation of the Della Cruscan School The contributions of Mrs Piozzi to this fantastic -Mrs Piozzi, Mrs Robinson, Mr Greathead, Mr garland of exotic verse are characterised in one Merry, Weston, Parsons, &c.--conspicuous for felicitous couplet : their affectation and bad taste, and their high-flown compliments on one another.

“There was

See Thrale's gay widow with a satchel roam, specious brilliancy in these exotics,' he remarks,

And bring, in pomp, her laboured nothings home! which dazzled the native grubs, who had scarce The tasteless bibliomaniac is also finely sketched : ever ventured beyond a sheep, and a crook, and a rose-tree grove; with an ostentatious display of

Others like Kemble, on black-letter pore, “blue hills,” and “crashing torrents,” and “petri

And what they do not understand, adore ; fying suns."

Gifford's vigorous exposure com- Buy at vast sums the trash of ancient days, pletely demolished this set of rhymesters, who And draw on prodigality for praise. were probably the spawn of Darwin and Lichfield. These, when some lucky hit, or lucky price, Anna Matilda, Laura Maria, Edwin, Orlando, &c. Has blessed them with The Boke of Gode Advice, sunk into instant and irretrievable contempt ; and For ekes and algates only deign to seek, the worst of the number-a man Williams, who And live upon a whilome for a week. assumed the name of Pasquin for his ribald strains'-was nonsuited in an action against The Baviad was a paraphrase of the first satire Gifford's publisher. The satire was universally of Persius. In the year following, encouraged read and admired. In the present day, it seems by its success, Gifford produced the Mæviad, an unnecessarily merciless and severe, yet lines like imitation of Horace, levelled at the corrupters of the following still possess interest. The allusion to dramatic poetry. Here also the Della Cruscan Pope is peculiarly appropriate and beautiful : authors—who attempted dramas as well as odes

and elegies—are gibbeted in satiric verse ; but Degeneracy of Modern Literature.

Gifford was more critical than just in including

O'Keefe, the amusing farce-writer, among the Oh for the good old times ! when all was new, And every hour brought prodigies to view,

objects of his condemnation. The plays of KotzeOur sires in unaffected language told

bue and Schiller, then first translated and much Of streams of amber and of rocks of gold :

in vogue, he also characterises as 'heavy, lumberFull of their theme, they spurned all idle art,

ing, monotonous stupidity,' a sentence too unqualiAnd the plain tale was trusted to the heart.

fied and severe. Now all is changed ! We fume and fret, poor elves, Gifford tried a third satire, an Epistle to Peter Less to display our subject than ourselves :

Pindar (Dr Wolcot), which, being founded on

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personal animosity, is more remarkable for its discharge his duties as editor until within two passionate vehemence and abuse than for its years of his death, which took place on the 31st of felicity or correctness. Wolcot replied with A Cut December 1826. Gifford claimed for himself at a Cobbler, equally unworthy of his fame. These satirical labours of our author pointed him out as

A soul a fit person to edit the Anti-Jacobin, a weekly

That spurned the crowd's malign control

A fixed contempt of wrong. paper set up by Canning and others for the purpose of ridiculing and exposing the political agita. He was high-spirited, courageous, and sincere. In tors of the times. It was established in November most of his writings, however, there was a strong 1797, and continued only till the July follow- tinge of personal acerbity, and even virulence. ing: The conection thus formed with politicians He was a good hater, and as he was opposed to and men of rank was afterwards serviceable to all political visionaries and reformers, he had Gifford. He obtained the situation of paymaster seldom time to cool. His literary criticism, also, of the gentlemen-pensioners, and was made a where no such prejudices could interfere, was frecommissioner of the lottery, the emoluments of the quently disfigured by the same severity of style two offices being about £900 per annum. In 1802, he published a translation of Juvenal, to which ventured to say aught against Ben Jonson, or write

or temper; and whoever, dead or living, had was prefixed his sketch of his own life, one of the what he deemed wrong comments on his favourite most interesting and unaffected of autobiographies. dramatists, were assailed with a vehemence that This translation of Juvenal was attacked in the Critical Review, and Gifford replied in a pamphlet, His attacks on Hazlitt, Lamb, Hunt, and others,

was ludicrously disproportioned to the offence. An Examination of the Strictures, &c. which con- in the Quarterly Review, have no pretensions to tains one remarkable passage :

fair or candid criticism. His object was to crush

such authors as were opposed to the government A Reviewer compared to a Toad.

of the day, or who departed from his canons of During my apprenticeship, I enjoyed perhaps as many literary propriety and good taste. Even the best places as Scrub ;* though I suspect they were not of his criticisms, though acute and spirited, want altogether so dignified: the chief of them was that of a candour and comprehensiveness of design. As a planter of cabbages in a bit of ground which my master politician, he looked with distrust and suspicion held near the town. It was the decided opinion of on the growing importance of America, and kept Panurge that the life of a cabbage-planter was the safest alive among the English aristocracy a feeling of and pleasantest in the world. I found it safe enough, I dislike or hostility towards that country, which confess, but not altogether pleasant ; and therefore took

was as unwise as it was ungenerous.

His best every opportunity of attending to what I liked better, service to literature was his edition of Ben Jonson, which happened to be, watching the actions of insects and reptiles, and, among the rest, of a huge toad. I in which he successfully vindicated that great never loved toads, but I never molested them ; for my English classic from the unjust aspersions of his mother had early bid me remember that every living countrymen. His satirical poetry is pungent, and thing had the same Maker as myself; and the words often happy in expression, but without rising always rang in my ears. The toad, then, who had into moral grandeur or pathos. His small but taken up his residence under a hollow stone in a hedge sinewy intellect, as some one has said, was well of blind nettles, I used to watch for hours together. It employed in bruising the butterflies of the Della was a lazy, lumpish animal, that squatted on its belly, Cruscan Muse. Some of his short copies of verses and perked up its hideous head with two glazed eyes

, possess a quiet, plaintive melancholy and tenderprecisely like a Critical Reviewer., In this posture, per ness; but his fame must rest on his influence and fectly satisfied with itself, it would remain as if it were talents as a critic and annotator, or more proa part of the stone, till the cheerful buzzing of some winged insect provoked it to give signs of life.

perly, on the story of his life and early struggles

The dead glare of its eyes then brightened into a vivid lustre, |-honourable to himself

, and ultimately to his and it awkwardly shuffled to the entrance of its cell, and country—which will be read and remembered opened its detestable mouth to snap the passing fy or when his other writings are forgotten. honey-bee. Since I have marked the manners of the Critical Reviewers, these passages of my youth have often occurred to me.

The Grave of Anna.

I wish I was where Anna lies,
Never was a toad more picturesquely treated !
Besides his version of Juvenal, Gifford translated

For I am sick of lingering here ;

And every hour affection cries, Persius, and edited the plays of Massinger, Ford,

Go and partake her humble bier. and Shirley, and the works of Ben Jonson. In 1808, when Sir Walter Scott and others resolved

I wish I could ! For when she died, on starting a Review, in opposition to the cele

I lost my all ; and life has proved brated one established in Edinburgh, Mr Gifford Since that sad hour a dreary void ; was selected as editor. In his hands, the Quar

A waste unlovely and unloved. terly Review became a powerful political and literary journal, to which leading statesmen and

But who, when I am turned to clay, authors equally contributed. He continued to

Shall duly to her grave repair,

And pluck the ragged moss away, * Farquhar's Beaux Stratagem, Act III. :

And weeds that have no business there?' Scrub. What d'ye think is my place in this family? Archer. Butler, I suppose.

Scrub. Ah, Lord help you! I'll tell you. Or a Monday I And who with pious hand shall bring drive the coach, of a Tuesday I drive the plough, on Wednesday

The flowers she cherished, snow-drops cold, I follow the hounds, on Thursday I dun the tenants, on Friday I And violets that unheeded spring, go to market, on Saturday I draw warrants, and on Sunday I draw beer.

To scatter o'er her hallowed mould ?

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