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borne so great a part with so much reputation. I immediately determined that your name should be mentioned, but the paper having been some time written, Mr. Hawkesworth, I suppose, did not care to disorder its text, and therefore put your eulogy in a note. He and every other man mention your papers of Criticism with great commendation, though not with greater than they deserve.

But how little can we venture to exult in any intellectual powers or literary attainments, when we consider the condition of poor Collins. I knew him a few years ago full of hopes and full of projects, versed in many languages, high in fancy, and strong in retention. This busy and forcible mind is now under the government of those who lately would not have been able to comprehend the least and most narrow of its designs. What do you hear of him? are there hopes of his recovery? or is be to pass the remainder of his life in misery and degra |dation? perhaps with complete consciousness of his calamity.

You have flattered us, dear Sir, for some time with the hopes of seeing you; when you come you will find your reputation encreased, and with it the kindness of those friends who do not envy you; for success always produces either love or hatred. I enter my name among those that love, and that love you more and more in proportion as by writing more you are more known; and believe that as you continue to diffuse among us your integrity and learning, I shall be still with greater esteem and affection,

pudent cock, is a Templar, who having read all the modern comedies and farces, the Spectators, Dryden's prefaces and dedications, and having once squeez'd out a prologue to a play that was damn'd, sets up for a critic and a wit. His cat-call is generally heard the first in the pit; he is the Coryphæus of those unmannerly disturbers of the public. He is the most despicable thing that ever disgraced humanity. He rises at twelve at noon, Saunters to some coffee-house till one, dresses and has dined by four, then to the coffee-house again, after that to the play for two acts, after that takes a round through all the bagnios and brothels in Covent Garden, kicks whores, and gets drunk with arrack punch, staggers home at three in the morn ing, quarrels with the watch, and breaks lamps. Hæc est vita salutorum. And this is a complete and exact journal of that kind of animal, which by the bye pretends to have a soul, called a Templar. One of the ladies he is talking to is extravagantly fond of cats and lapdogs; a large hound that she hugs and kisses all day, has the honour to lie with her all night. She is a lady of great benevolence to the brute creation. She at this time carries a squirrel in her pocket, and if you observe, has just put in her finger, that the dear little favourite may give her an amorous bite. The other is a prodigious devotee, and a great reader of Thomas a Kempis: she has bad thoughts of retiring from the world into some grotto in a desert, and to carry nothing with her but a lamp and a death's head: I wonder to see her here, but I suppose she comes to make grave reflections on the vanity of all pleasures and earthly amusements. She constantly frequents a church in the City, where there is a handsome young lecturer, who preaches prettily, has a graceful lisping delivery, and abounds in the most smart antitheses, most elegant and ingenious conceits, and the best turned periods imaginable. He never frightens his fair audience with the mentioning any of my fraternity, but if I may so say, strews the path to Heaven with flowers. But hold a little by Proserpine, I spy yonder the very man I am speaking of; 'tis he with a smooth round face, and a neckcloth so white and so well plaited under his florid double chin. He preach'd last Sunday in a silk gown, with a lawn handkerchief in his hand, and a fine diamond ring upon his finger, upon this well chosen text; And why take ye thought for raiment? He bows so well, and flatters so smoothly,ance and has so little spirit or honesty, that he will cer tainly be a dean.'

Dear Sir,

Your most obedient

• Dear Sir,

March 8th, 1754.

I cannot but congratulate you upon the conclusion of a work (The Adventurer) in which you have

and most humble servant,

SAM. JOHNSON.'

In another he reverts to the same subject, in the most impressive manner :

What becomes of poor dear Collins? I wrote him a letter which he never answered. I suppose writing is very troublesome to him. That man is no common loss. The moralists all talk of the uncertainty of fortune, and the transitoriness of beauty; but it is yet more dreadful to consider that the powers of the mind are equally liable to change, that understanding may make its appear

But the most captivating part of the whole work is the last, which contains letters from many of the most distinguished characters the republic of letters; and out of which Mr. Wool might have easily formed a tissue he has already fallen; he possesses a fund of of the most useful and interesting informa-instruction and powers of execution, which, tion. One of those written by Johnson, will, if properly regulated, may one day turn our we have no doubt, be read with melancholy censure into praise, and crown his brow with

and depart, that it may blaze and expire.' We have heard that Mr. Wool intended to publish a second volume of letters of the same description, and long as well as the public for their appearance. Truth has com inpelled us to be rather severe in our observations, but let him avoid the errors into which

satisfaction.

fame.

E. R

BALLADS AND LYRICAL PIECES.

ARTICLE VIII-Ballads and Lyrical Pieces, by Walter Scott, Esq. 8vo Longman.

"

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the Rhymer,' The Fire King,' Frederick
and Alice,' The wild Huntsman,' together
with a few songs which had not before becu
published.
Of all these Glenfinlas' is in.

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THERE has scarcely been a poem published for these several years, which has obtained, and with a great degree of justice, so rapid a circulation and so good a charac-|| ter, as Mr. Scott's "Lay of the last Minstrel." comparably the best. We hardly know any thing in poetry more sublime than the incideutal Description of the Second Sight, or more simple and affecting than the manner in which it it introduced. We will do Mr. Scott justice where we can.

Of this poem we have formerly given a re-
view, and we had expected, on turning over
the pages of the present work, a similar plea-
sure with that which we felt at the perusal
of Mr. Scott's first work. It has been our
lot, however, to be disappointed; not alto-
gether from finding the present poems in-
ferior to Mr. Scott's other work, but from dis-I
covering that they are mere shreds and patches,
second hand things, which we have before
enjoyed in other collections, and for which,
therefore, the reader can, with no justice be
summoned to pay again. This is not fair
dealing either as a poet or a man.
It is an
unjust advantage which Mr. Scott has taken
of the reputation of his former book; and
however it may fill his pockets, it will not
help his character.

Glenfintas,' 'The Eve of St. John,'' Cadyow Castle,' 'The Grey Brother,' Thoinas; Supplement-Vol. II.

E'en then, when o'er the heath of woe
Where sunk my hopes of love and fame,
bade my harp's wild wailings flow,

On me the seer's sad spirit came.
The last dread curse of angry heaven,

With ghastly sights and sounds of woe,

To

dash each glimpse of joy, was given-

The gift, the future ill to know.
The bark thou saw'st, yon summer morn,

So gaily part from Oban's bay,

My eye beheld her dash'd and torn,

Far on the rocky Colonsay.

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Thy Fergus toothy sister's son,

Thou saw'st, with pride, the gallant's power,
As marching 'gainst the lord of Downe,

He left the skirts of huge Benmore.
Thou only saw'st their tartans wave,

As down Benvoirlich's side they wound,
leard'st but the pibroch, answering brave,
To many a target clanking round.

In an advertisement indeed Mr. Scott has the following words. "These Ballads," he says, "have been already published in different collections; some in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Barder; others in the "Tales of the Worder," and some in both those Miscellanies." This is candid; it is liberal dealing. What a pity the reader must buy the book We would assign the next place in the colbefore he can come at this piece of intelli-lection to Cadyow Castle.' It is addressed gence. But his half guinea must be spent to read it, and, when he has read it, he then discovers that his half guinea is thrown away. Undoubtedly Mr. Scott had a right to collect all his ballads and fugitive pieces into one bundle, and dispose of them as he could; but we ask if it be fair dealing to charge the public twice for a commodity, ani, by a little change of external appearance, to atteinpt an imposition on their credulity? If Mr.|| Scott answers this question fairly, we leave the justice of our accusation to his own candour. The contents of this volume are,

to Lady Anne Hamilton, and opens very happily with an allusion to the antient grandeur of her illustrious family.

I heard the groans I marked the tears,
I saw the wound his bosom bore,
When on the serried Saxon spears

He poured his clan's resistless roar.'

When princely Hamilton's alode
Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers,
The song went round, the goblet flowed,

And revel sped the laughing hours.
Then thrilling to the harp's gay sound,
So sweetly ung cach vaulted wil,
And echoed light the dancer's bound.

As mirth and music cheered the hall.

Put Cadyow's towers, in ruins laid,

And vaults, by ivy mantied o'er,
Thrill to the music of the shade,

Or echo Evan's houser roar.

Yer still, of Cadyow's faded faine,
You bid me tell a monstrel tale,

E

And tune my harp, of border frame,
On the wide banks of Evandale.

For thou, from scenes of courtly pride, From pleasure's lighter scenes, canst turn, To draw oblivion's pall aside,

And mark the long forgotten urn.
Then, noble maid? at thy command,
Again the crumbled halls shall rise;
Lo! as on Evan's banks we stand,

The past returns--the present flies.--.
Where with the rock's wood-covered side
Were blended late the ruins green,
Rise turrets in fantastic pride,

And feudal banners flaunt between:.
Where the rude torrent's brawling course
Was shagged with thorn and tangling sloe,
The ashler buttress braves its force,

And ramparts frown in battled row.'

The three following stanzas are examples of Mr. Scott's powers of description.

Through the huge oaks of Evandale,

Whose limbs a thousand years have worn, What sullen roar comes down the gale,

And drowns the hunter's pealing horn? Mightiest of all the beasts of chace

That roam in woody Caledon,
Crashing the forest in his race,

The Mountain Bull comes thundering on.
Fierce on the hunter's quivered band,
He rolls his eyes of swarthy glow,
Spurns, with black hoot and horn, the sand,
And tosses high his mane of snow.'

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The Grey Brother' contains some slight beauties. The songs have considerable ele

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ADELGITIA; OR, THE FRUITS OF A SINGLE ERROR,

ARTICLE IX.-Adelgitha; or, the Fruits of a Single Error, a Tragedy in five Acts, by G. Lewis. Second Edition, Hughes, 1807.

ACT 5th. SCENE 2d.

Claudia and Ladies.
GUISCARD.

THIS tragedy is an indubitable proof of the poetical talents of Mr. Low is .It has not Adelgitha descends the staircase of the palace, with been so successful on the stage as it deserved. We shall enter into no examination of it; but Oh! welcome, welcome, as the wished-for port make a copious extract from the last act. To some long-absent seamen!--Why, my soul, It is the finest part of the play, and conHast thou so long deprived me of thy sight? My heart can know no mirth, while thou art from tains of course, the catastrope. It is to be remembered that Guiscard was the husband of As rainbows shine nct, when the sun's withdrawn. Adelgitha, from whom she labours to conceal ADELGITIA. her having borne, before her marriage, an'i illegitimate son; from whose birth her whole My heart... there couldst thou read... misfortunes spring,

me,

Guiscard!--So ill I merit... I'm so conscious ....

CLAUDAI [&hispering her]
Beware, dear Princess!

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At once robs thee of life, and me of honour!
A sovereign stain!--A sovereign at my court
Who sought protection, and who found a grave!
The astonished world (blending our names) will
judge,

Inhuman Imma!

'Tis past endurance!---Kill me, Princess, kill me!
To die were better, than to cause those tears!
I've steeled my heart to bear all human anguish,
As a man should: but what I suffer now,
Demands the strength and patience of a god.
Oh! spare me, spare me! Leave me to my fate!

'Twas Guiscard's policy which nerved thy arm;
And after-ages, hearkening this foul murder,
Will curse the prince, who sheltered to destroy!
LOTHAIR.
What can I say;-So deep and dark a gloom
Involves my tate, that I despair to pierce it!
Yet that one Master power produced and governs
This universal globe... that mortal eyes
Are prone to error.., that vice oft is decked with
That glory cicle, which had fitter graced
Heads, which have fall'n beneath the axe of law..
These truths are not more true, than this I swear-
The snow that falls is not from taint so pure,
As are my hands from blood, my lips from false.
hood!

LOTHAIR.

IMMA.

GUISCARD.

I know not what to think!--Ilis oaths

guish..:

Should he indeed be guiltless...

RAINULF.

Oh! Heavens!

Gracious Prince,

Know, that on Michael's corse the note was found, Which lured him to those secret rocks.

ADELGITHA [aside.]

IMMA.

Then clear thy conduct, and relieve my heart,
Which trembles for thy love, thy life, thy virtue!
Who placed thy faulchion by my father's corse?
So near him, didst not hear his shriek for succour?
Know'st thou, whose hand.... lie turns away in
silence!

Was it not signed?

RAINULF. It was not; but the writing Perhaps may lend some clue...

GUISCARD.

I'm lost!

You counsel well :

Produce that note

I haste to seek it.

GUISCARD.

ADELGITIA [aside.]

LOTHAIR [aside.] She started!--then 'twas hers!

RAINULF.

I hear his steps!

Now!--Now!

his an

ADELGITHA [in a low voice to Claudia.] Now, Claudia, now!

Now what resource..、

[Exit.

GUISCARD [to Imma, who is weeping, supported by the Attendants.} Sweet mourner, would some comfort... Spirits of bliss, I ask not from your stores Your prescient sense, nor boundless power, nor life That knows no end!-But grant me some blest charm

To heal the wounds o' the mind; to seal in slumber Grief's pain stretch'd eye-lids, and with lenient skil To draw the poisoned arrow forth, which rankles In suffering virtne's heart!

LOTHAIR [aside.]

ADELGIȚIA [breathless with anxiety.]

LOTHAIR (aside.] What must be done!-Oh! wretched woman!

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