When, from her sleeping lover's downy cheek,
To which so warily her own she brings

Each moment nearer, she perceives the warmth
Blithe warmth, of kisses fann'd by playful Dreams.
Ocean, and earth, and heaven, was jubilee.
For 'twas the morning, pointed out by Fate,
When an immortal maid and mortal man

Should share each other's nature, knit in bliss."

We must observe that the story is told very obscurely, and should have been assisted by an Argument in prose. Young writers are often astonished to find that passages, which seem very clear to their own heated imaginations, appear very dark to their readers.-The author of the poem before us may produce something worthy of more approbation, if he will labour hard, and delay for a few years the publica, tion of his next performance.

Art. 33. A Melancholy, but True Story. 4to. Is. Liverpool, printed; and sold by Hurst, London. 1800.

We hope that this heart-rending tale is not true; and we hope, also, that the young writer will be content with our allowing her performance sufficient merit by our honest praise of her POETRY; as well as in our warm approbation of her benevolent design, viz. to befriend the cause of suffering virtue among the poor:-a subject, ak this time, very seasonably brought forward.

Art. 34. Extracts from the Works of the most celebrated Italian Poets. By admired English Authors. 8vo. pp. 300. 8s. Boards, Rivingtons, &c.

The title-page of this work sufficiently explains its nature. The extracts are from Metastasio, Tasso, Ariosto, Guarini, Lorenzo de Medici, Dante, &c. and the translations are from Hoole, Hayley, Roscoe, &c.

Art. 35. The Last Dying Words of the Eighteenth Century, a Pindaric Ode; giving a humourous and chronological Detail of all the remarkable Events, Fashions, Characters, &c. &c. By Andrew Merry, Esq. 8vo. 1s. 6d. Lec. 1800.

Some instances of jocularity in death are on record: but we believe that this is the first specimen of last dying words being delivered in a humourous hudibrastic-pindaric ode. Some, however, will say that the Eighteenth Century may well be in such spirits, because it is not dying, and will live for some time yet, in spite of all its enemies, Perhaps Mr. Andrew Merry, or Merry Andrew, or whatsoever he may chuse to be called, may have a design on us in this comical production, and may mean to draw us (who are more apt to be caught and fascinated by pleasantry than by a starched gravity) into the important centuarian controversy: but we must let him know, that we do not undertake to teach our readers how space and time are reckoned. Why, indeed, should we interfere, since a Muse is here invoked to explain the matter?-We will let this Muse speak

* We are informed that the fair writer is only sixteen years old: if so, she is, indeed, blessed with a more than common portion of genius.

for

for herself; though we should conclude, from her manner, that she had not been long in the demonstration line.

First, the Muse shows (since void of sense
There's some have wonder'd)

That CENTURY EIGHTEEN did commence
With Seventeen hundred.

When that the LORD's first year began

The Century to One hundred ran.

Then from this Probat, must be reckon'd
In the first hundred, Century SECOND.
So as has been by every one read,

The EIGHTEENTH was in SEV'NTEEN HUNDRED.”

In these lines we see neither wit, beauty, harmony, nor perspicuity. The Eighteenth Century may be supposed, in her dying recollections, (as old people have never the best memories,) to have omitted many circumstances of her long and eventful life: but we are astonished that she should make such a mistake as to call Queen Anne King William's daughter.

The changes of fashion are particularly noticed; and antient and modern modes of dress are contrasted with some humour in the poem, and exhibited in a caricature print facing the title.

A. D. 1700.

What modesty now mark'd our fair,
They did not leave their bosoms bare,
Creating passion!

But hiding almost all the skin,

They wore large caps, tied under chin;
Ah, sweet old fashion!.

And the ruff handkerchiefs did so pin
That no part of the breast lay open.'-
• The titled lady, neat and prim,
Exhibited a person slim,

With waist so nice and taper;
How neatly fix'd was every pin;
So tightly lac'd, she look'd as thin
As was her own thread-paper;
And then by a large hoop's assistance
She kept the fopling at a distance.
The Macaroni, like a Lord,
Walk'd with full-bottom'd wig and sword,
And cravat as was made then;

A long square coat with a large cuff,
For taylors put in cloth enough,

A sign that they were paid then!

With fierce cock'd hat they look'd like men,

And wore two costly rings;

At first large buckles, small ones then,

But never thought of strings."

This merry gentleman has hit on a good idea, and in some parts has executed it with effect: but, should he be encouraged to give us more last words, we shall expect to see the Old Lady a little more correct, as well as more entertaining.

RRV. FEB. 1800.

P

Art.

Art. 36. Buonaparte's Reverie: A Poem. 8vo. pp. 65. zs. Boards. Richardson 1799:

The introduction to this poem describes the French hero (now the Grand Consul) as a man of the greatest courage, abilities, and resources, but instigated by a frenzied ambition; and it reminds us that his character is drawn after the conqueror of Italy had degraded himself into the free-booter of Egypt.

In the poem, Bonaparte thus speaks:

Alaric fam'd for many a blood-mark'd field,
Attila, Timon, to my name must yield;

Young Ammon, too, though all in hist'ry shine,
Each had his hour, the golden now is mine.

Their different realms and states have had their day;
But all to the Great Nation" must give way.'

This is quite in character for a vain ambitious hero, who considers himself to be Fortune's very first favourite: but the poetry might have been better, and the character equally well preserved. Here, as in other parts of the piece, the author sins against all the rules of quantity. The second a in Alaric is short, and so is the i in Attila, but he has made them both long. The last Ene, moreover, is too tame and prosaic for the mouth of frenzied ambition.

Bonaparte is well described as anticipating, in his imagination, the entire conquest of all Africa and Asia: but it is completely out of

character to make him talk of

A Kemble's acting and a Jordan's smile."

Britons are, properly enough, complimented with his threats of vengeance:

And their great empire soaring o'er mankind:' but we trust that, either as General or Consul, he will not be able materially to hurt this our happy sea-girt isle.

After having made Bonaparte boast what great things he will accomplish by the expedition to Egypt, the poet well depicts. his defeat before Acre, and at last Iris desertion of the army

In a small bark he meanly steals away;
Silent she spreads her canvas to the gales,
And Afric's curses fill the parting sails.'
He then adds:

Unhappy France! your mis'ries now begin,
And in your punishment you'll see your sin.'

Pocts and prophets are said to be of one and the same profession.
The Ugly Club: a Dramatic Caricature in One Act.
By Edmund Spenser, the Younger. 8vo. 1s. Cawthorne.

Art. 37.

It would be unjust to say that there is no wit in this slight piece, since the author has taken all his good things from high authorities; Butler, Addison, and Steele, have been laid largely under contribu

* We have also the line,

Improving on Mahomet's crafty plan,'

where the o is made long in Mahomet, which is short. In another place (still taking liberties with proper names) he converts Thermopla into Thermopila, (see p. 33.)

tion for the support of his dialogue. The passages which he has appropriated are unluckily so familiar to the readers of Hudibras and the Spectator, that they immediately strike.the recollection as borrowed, and leave the author's own composition a mere caput mortuum. Art. 38. Pizarro; a Pizarro; a Tragedy in Five Acts: Differing widely from all other Pizarro's in respect of Characters, Sentiments, Language, Incidents, and Catastrophe. By a North-Briton. 8vo. pp. 63. 2s. 6d. Hurst.

This is one of the eruptions produced by the late strange phrenzy for German tragedy;

"They rave, recite, and madden round the land” —

Here is a bonny Scot, who has actually undertaken to re-write the hackneyed subject of Pizarro; and a braw tragedy he has made of it. Cora is here the daughter of Ataliba; Alonzo is mortally wounded in the battle, and persuades his lady to give her hand to Rolla; and Elvira is provided with a husband in the person of Valverde.—All this might be tolerated: but the author's contempt of grammar is really not to be endured. When his Elvira, for example, tears off her * male attire,' p. 15, [we presume, her small clothes,] on the stage,which is quite a new incident in tragedy, she exclaims, Never more does these conceal my sex.' Again, in the marginal directions for the second scene, act II. on one side sits Cora and Fernando.' This error is repeated in p. 61. In the third act, we have this notable vulgarism: He has not been,' for, He has not been here: this indeed is a provincial blunder, not a Scotticism.

In the battle, Kolla is made to kill Pizarro; and never, certainly, was business commenced with more dispatch;

Rolla. Ha!

• Pizarro. Well met.' [They fight.]

It would have been difficult to have said less, if Pizarro had offered his antagonist a pinch of snuff.

Though we were not infected by the influenza of the Pizarro, when it raged to the utmost, yet we cannot flatter this gentleman with such hope as he expresses, that his performance will outlive the name of Sheridan.

Art. 39. The Happy Family, a Drama, in Five Acts. Translated from the German of Augustus Von Kotzebue. By Benjamin Thompson. 8vo. 28. Vernor, &c. 1799:

This is one of the better kind of Kotzebue's plays; the characters, though feebly conceived, bear more resemblance to the people of this world, than his dramatis persone commonly exhibit. The translator's language is also rather more tolerable than that of some other doers of Kotzebue; this at least may be said of his prose, but his verses are very indifferent. Witness the following duet, which is introduced with commendations by one of the heroines:

Rosa.

Why, Fate, dost thou thine ear thus shut,

And why my supplications mock?

*The author's own orthography, differing widely from all English

grammar.

P 2

• Rebberg

· Rehberg.

All I require is but a hut,

And friend, and little humble flock.
• Rosa.

'Blest with such gifts I still should know
Peace and contentment felt by few,-
· Rehberg.

Yet how much more my breast would glow,
If I might share those joys with you.'

Critics sometimes nod, as well as poets, even in the judgmentseat; and it is no wonder, indeed, that the reader should sleep over passages which have lulled the author himself. We are not ashamed therefore to own that, after having read the delectable verses just recited, we fell into a reverie, during which the following words were buzzed in our ears:

"Reviewer.

"Reviewer.

"Curst with such verse, we ne'er should know.
A moment's peace in our Review-
"Translator.

"Yet brighter far my Muse would glow,
Could I but earn some praise from you."

Being once more awake, we shall give a specimen of this gentleman's prose:

• Re-enter Paulina and Rosa.

One brings a bottle-the other a silver goblet.

Pau. Number 4.

Ros. With a black seal.

• Pau. There is Hocheim upon it.

• Ros. And 1776.

Wel. [drinks and says to Rosa] Fill it. [She obeys he turns to the Count.] Sir, I am sorry that, added to your own misfortunes, you have been obliged to witness the distress of others.-[Raises the goblet.] According to the ancient custom of our country I sincerely welcome.

bid you

[Paulina takes the goblet and delivers it to the Count with a curtsey. Lob. [empties it.] To the health of my worthy host!--Now, Sir, really remain true to the customs of our forefathers, I am sccure in your house, for we have drank from the same goblet.

if

you

Wel. Here lurks no traitor.

Dal. Spies gain nothing here.

Fre. But a drubbing.

Reh. And contempt.

Mrs. W. If you be weary, Sir, I'll conduct you to a retired

chamber.

• Pau. You shall sleep on linen, which we wove ourselves.

• Ros.