would be superfluous to observe-that it is not extraordinary, if the English, who are natives of the Cassiterides, should be found using the same language, which was spoken by Hanno-above two thousand years ago. The intercourse between the Phoenicians and ancient Britons-is not denied; and is the true origin of that Cornish courtesy and polish, which are so remarkable at the present day.

I have the honour to be,

&c. &c. &c.

EDWARD ETYMON,

SIR,

To the Anonymous.

Conjecturing that such literary hints as you may think deserving of attention-will obtain the honour of being admitted into your ingenious paper,-I take the liberty of asking whether " The Task" of CowPER might not, with more propriety, be called "The Maze?"-This latter would be a title, not derived from an extrinsic accident, which requires an explanation; (viz. that this poem was a Task, imposed by Lady Austen ;) but drawn from the intrinsic nature and character of the work itself.-Do I mean to disparage this?-Far-very far indeed--am I from any such intention. I look on it as

"A mighly MAZE; and not without a plan.”*

It is an admirable labyrinth,-which it required the superiour genius of Cowper to construct; and his poetical powers, to carry his readers through-with supreme delight. Its meritorious plan is stated by its amiable author, in a letter to The Reverend William Unwin. In another letter, he makes excuses for the title which it bears;-and in most properly rejecting such a ludicrous and disparaging appellation as "The Olio," perhaps indirectly supplies an argument in favour of that, which I propose to substitute, viz. The Maze.

+ 73d. Hayley's Life of Cowper, vol. ii. p. 254.

To the Rev. John Newton; letter 80. Ibid. vol. ii. p. 279.

NUMBER XLI.

SATURDAY, JUNE 25th, 1808.

-repetita placebit.

HOR.

My verse, indulgent reader, seem'd to hit
Your fancy. Should you like another bit?

FROM the reception with which my metrical Numbert has been honoured, I am encouraged to bring four more fugitives before the public. Though not bound, they yet are suppliants for the reader's favour; and are said to be the offspring of that muse, who has already§ contributed to his entertain

ment.

* I claim a special property in whatsoever is received into this collection; and am willing to consider myself as a sort of carrier, who conveys the literature of the day, in his periodical vehicle, to posterity.

+ XXXIX.

Not when this paper, pas encore relié, appeared.

§ In Number XXXIX.

ORIGIN OF THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE.*

From ardent Pan, while coy Ladonia flew,
Tangling in Earth, to reeds the Trembler grew:
Reft of the prize which scarce his fleetness gain'd,
Rooted alike to Earth the God remain'd:
When hark! a sigh, and then a melting strain
Rose on the breeze; and faltering, died again.
Say was it zephyr, from the mazy reeds
That thus, escaping with a sigh, proceeds?
Or the quell'd sobbings of the ill-fated Maid,
Dispers❜d in murmurs thro' the breathing shade?—
On his astonish'd ear the sweetness stole ;
(O power of melody!) and thrill'd his soul.

Down his rough cheek the streaming sorrows shower'd;
And late Remorse his inward peace devour'd:
"6 Lost, injured Fair," he cried, the Assassin hears

Thy fond complaint; and bathes it in his tears:
"Yet with that moan, on gales unfeeling borne,
"Will soothe the lot he cannot cease to mourn.-
"The doating subtilty, sweet maid, forgive,
"That bids at least thy precious strains to live :
"The tender cruelty, that seeks to save

"Thy lasting sorrows from thy timelesst grave.
“In vain th' inclement grasp of monstrous Death
"Arrests the harmonious current of thy breath:
"For ever shall endure thy voice, and name,
"Immortal-as of Echo, or of Fame.

The story of Pan and Syrinx, book i. fab. 15. of Ovid's Metamorphoses, suggested the materials for this short poem; (written in 1790;) which is not however a translation from, nor even intended as an imitation of, the Roman Poet.

+ Used by Shakspeare, and other writers, for untimely.

"From these wild notes, my pensive task shall be
"To frame th' heart-conquering chains of Melody.
"In rill-divided vale, on mountain brow,

"Thy sounds shall soothe the Shepherd's artless woe:
"Thy melting accents charm the silent hour;
"O'er the full breast the assuaging comfort pour;
"Tame headlong Rage,—and thaw the frost of Cares,
"To fond Regrets, and Tenderness, and Tears;
"And to my bosom call thee, gentle shade,

""Till thy voice heal the wound, thy form has made.”
His Victim thus-the God consoled, and mourn'd;
While soft approving sighs the shuddering Reeds return'd.*

Another Irish Rhyme !-Cares with Tears!Pray, good my English reader, when your countryman, Gray, made woof rhyme to enough, did he pronounce the first of these words wuf, or the second enoof?-See Number XXVI.

* The sound of this line strikes the editor (and probably the

author) as happily echoing the sense.

+ Written in Feb. 1791.