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the house, and cut in between those thick-headed Liegeois on the right and the city, from which they are supplied with recruits.'
“ The uncle and nephew galloped off to Dunois and Crawford, who, tired of their defensive war, joyfully obeyed the summons, and, filing out at the head of a gallant body of about two hundred French gentlemen, besides squires, and the greater part of the archers, marched across the field, trampling down the wounded, till they gained the flank of the large body of Liegeois, by whom the right of the Burgundians had been so fiercely assailed. The increasing day-light discovered that the enemy were continuing to pour out from the city, either for the purpose of continuing the battle on that point, or of bringing safely off the forces who were already engaged." Vol. III. p. 335.
Art. XI. A Collection of Poems, chiefly Manuscript, and
from living Authors. Edited for the Benefit of a Friend,
by Joanna Baillie. 8vo. pp. 374. Longman & Co. 1823. It is bardly fair to criticize a collection of poems published by a Lady for the Benefit of a Friend, and we are ready on such occasions to waive our privilege, and leave the onenlightened public, to their own lucubrations. But our present duty is not to censure but to commend, and we have great pleasure in introducing the reader to this curious and agreeable medley. A work which comprises the names of Scott, Campbell, Southey, Wordsworth, Crabb, Rogers, Bowles, and Milman, may be expected to contain pieces of no common merit; while the minor poets among whom the Editor maintains a conspicuous station, will be flattered at seeing their labours in such exalted company. We transcribe by way of specimen, the contributions of Southey and Campbell. “ The Cataract of Lodore, described in Rhymes for the
Nursery, by one of the Lake Poets.
“ How does the water come down at Lodore ?
4 Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling ;
Here smoking and frothing,
Its tumult and wrath in,
It hastens along, conflicting strong;
Now striking and raging,
As if a war waging,
Its caverns and rocks among;
“ Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and flinging,
Showering and springing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting
Around and around,
With endless rebound:
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
“ Receding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
And flowing and growing
And running and stunning,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And dinning and spinning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And thundering and floundering,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling,
And sounding and bounding and rounding,
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming,
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying,
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And thumping and Humping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing,
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o’er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore." P. 280.
“ Triumphant arch! that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud philosophy
To teach me what thou art :
“ Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight
Betwixt the earth and heaven.
“ Can all that optics teach unfold
Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?
" When science from creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!
“ And yet, fair bow! no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.
“ When o'er the green undeluged earth
Heaven's covenant thou did'st shine,
How came the world's
To watch thy sacred sign!
" And when its yellow lustre smil'd
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mothér held aloft her child
To'bless the bow of God.
“ Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
The first-made anthem rang,
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.
“ Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptur'd greet thy beam :
Theme of primeval prophecy!
Be still the poet's theme.
“ The earth to thee its incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
When glitt'ring in the freshen'd fields
The snowy mushroom springs.
« How glorious is thy girdle cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town;
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,
A thousand fathoms down !
“ As fresh in
As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark
First sported in thy beam.
• For faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span ;
Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.” P. 43. There is a comparison of Mrs. Fry's reformation of Newgate, to the stilling of the sea by our Saviour, which might have been advantageously omitted: first, because Newgate is as tempestuous as ever, and secondly, because Mrs. Fry is contrasted with our Lord in a manner wbich may give just offence.
Mr. Sotheby and Mr. Charles Sheridan are voluminous but not succesful contributors. A portrait of an aged and dying mother by Mr. Galley Knight, is in better taste, and we shall conclude these brief remarks by extracting a small portion of it.
“ Ye who approach her threshold, cast aside
The world, and all the littleness of pride ;
Come not to pass an hour, and then away
Back to the giddy follies of the day;-
With reverent step and heav'n-directed eye,
Clad in the robes of meek humility,
As to a temple's hallow'd courts, repair,
And come the lesson, as the scene, to share ;
Gaze on the ruin'd frame, and pallid cheek,
Prophetic symptoms, that too plainly speak!
Those limbs that fail her as she faulters by ;
Pangs, that from nature will extort a sigh ;
See her from social intercourse remov’d,
Forbid to catch the friendly voice she lov'd ;
Then mark the look compos'd, the tranquil air,
Unfeign'd contentment still enthroned there!
The cheerful beams, that, never quench’d, adorn
That cheek, that gladden those who thought to mourn ;
Benignant smiles for all around that shine,
Unbounded love, and charity divine !
This is Religion-not unreal dreams,
Enthusiast raptures and seraphic gleams;
But Faith's calm triumph-Reason's steady sway,
Not the brief lightning, but the perfect day.” P. 201.
" Nor her’s alone the virtues that require
Some stroke of fate to rouse their latent fire ;
Great for an hour, heroic for a scene,
Inert through all the common life between,
But such as each diurnal task perform,
Pleas'd in the calm, unshaken by the storm.
In her had Nature bounteously combin'd
The tend'rest bosom with the strongest mind;
Sense that seem'd instinct, so direct it caught
The just conclusion, oft refus'd to thought;
Simplicity of heart, that never knew
What meant the baubles which the world
All these, by not a taint of self alloy'd,
All these were her's—for others all employ'd.
To seek the haunts of poverty and pain,
Teach want to thrive, and grief to smile again ;
To guide young footsteps to the right, and win
The old in error from the ways of sin ;
To ease the burthens of the human race,
Mend ev'ry heart, and gladden ev'ry face,
She liv'd and breath'd, -not from the world estrang'd,
But mov'd amongst it, guileless and unchang'd ;
Still lov'd to view the picture's brighter side;
The first to cherish, and the last to chide." P. 203.
MONTHLY LIST OF PUBLICATIONS.
Lectures on ihe Bouk of Genesis. By J. Rudge, D.D. F.R.S. 2 Vols. 8vo. 11. Is.
Sermons, Doctrinal, Practical, and Occasional. By the Rev. W. Snowden, Perpetual Curate of Horbury, near Wakefield. Vol. II. 8vo. 10s. 6d.