Each in its place, and each within its kind,
Still acts the part by Providence assign'd;
Thro' ages bearing this sad truth along,
That Man alone of all God's works is wrong.'-

Some higher cause then must this power impart,
To cleanse and purify the human heart.
Seek you it truly ?-beaten is the road,

It is reflection and the word of God.

These, these will shew you, would you deign to see,
This, what you are; that, what you ought to be.

Let him whose passions, so perversely strong,
Will take the lead, and yet will lead him wrong,
Fly to a Saviour of unbounded might,

"Whose yoke is easy, and whose burden light;"
In fervent faith confide in him alone,

Hope thro' his merits, tremble for his own."

The profits of this publication, we are informed in the advertisement, are to be applied to the fund for relieving the necessitous widows and children of clergymen within the archdeaconry of Coventry.

Art. 34. The Appeal of the imprisoned Debtor. 4to.
Is. 6d. Bell.
We sincerely wish that this pleasing and well written appeal may
conduce to rescue its author from the wretched society of a prison,
which he thus describes :

Lo! these are they who fill yon dreary pile,
Whose ling'ring hours dull blasphemies beguile :
For not alone the Wretched here are seen
With brow contracted, and a livid mien,
He who of murder makes his sullen boast,
Or knows each blood-stain'd cavern of the coast;
Or he who recreant prowls the busy street,
Or marks for midnight schemes the snug retreat,
Are here to mingle in the stupid roar,
And joy to hail one fallen brother more.
Alas! ere long he joins the giddy scene,
Reckless of what he is, or what has been;

-Wretched at first-to each low vice descends

The victim-lost to country, fame, and friends.'

Art. 35. Almeda; or, the Neapolitan Revenge: a Tragic Drama.
By a Lady. 8vo. 2s. Symonds.

The plot of this tragedy, in which a lover is interred alive in the tomb of a malicious mistress, is said to be taken from the adventures of Rozelli. The original story, however, is of older date: we think that it is to be found in the Decameron.

Our deference for the author's sex leads us to say little of her performance: we are unwilling to blame, and we cannot praise it. The following passages will give our readers an idea of its merits :

Jeff.

Man.

• SCENE.-The COUNTESS's Chamber.

The COUNTESS on a Bed, BEATRICE, Women, and then enter CASALIA.

Beatrice.-Madam, my Lord the Constable is come

With speed t' obey your

Countess.

Yet still I'll see Casalia.

summons.
I'm very weak,
Retire awhile.

[To the Women, who exeunt.

In that lov'd name there is a wondrous charm,
Which e'en in death sounds sweet upon mine ear.
Casalia.-Behold me, dear Almeda, still thy friend,
With ardent wishes for your health and safety.
Countess.-Casalia, thy neglect has fix'd my doom!
But tho' (sad emblems of thy with'ring love)
These fading charms are to their native dust
Retreating fast, yet still my love remains!
Still is that passion strong and undiminish❜ð
As in those fond and erring moments, when
gave thee all my heart!
Casalia.-

I

Lovely Almeda,

Oh! speak not thus desponding! By ev'ry tie
That binds me grateful to thy service ever,
No trials e'er so hard, nor danger fearful,

But I would dare them all with joy and pleasure
To save thy precious life!

Countess.

'Tis now too late!

Thou lov'st another, and Zelecta's beauty

Bears off the prize from me! In wedlock's bonds
Ere long th' exulting maid will call thee, hers!
I claim a higher bliss! For thee, Casalia,

For thee I die!

Enter BEATRICE in haste.
Madam, th' afflicted Count

Impatient waits to enter.

Countess.

Dear Casalia,

If the last hope of these departing moments

Is sacred to thy soul, Oh! shew it now!
Let not the Count be witness to my weakness;
Preserve my honour, tho' thou'st scorn'd my love.
In yonder chest thou may'st conceal thyself
Until the Count retires. Be quick!-Farewell!
Casalia.-Thy honour, dearer than Casalia's life,
Shall be preserv'd. Adieu then, Dear Almeda !
May Heav'n restore thee to the good Paulina !

[Exit Beatrice.

[CASALIA goes into the Chest, then Enter BEATRICE, &c. and then the COUNT follows.

Countess. (to Beatrice in a low voice.)

Dear Beatrice, lock up that valu'd chest,

And bring the key to me.

With care and safety

Let

Let them then bear it to the antichamber;
Then all retire, and leave the Count with me.

[Exeunt Servants and Beatrice with the Chest.

We cannot advise the fair writer to persist in her attempts at the drama.

Art. 36. A Translation of the Eighth Satire of Boileau on Man: Written in the Year 1667, and addressed to Mr. Morel, Doctor of [the] Sorbonne. 12mo. 1s. 6d. W. Phillips. 1801.

From the freedom with which this gentleman blames the common mode of translation, in his short introduction, we hoped to find him excel in his own efforts in this way of writing,-especially as his original is a pattern for correct composition: but we were miserably disappointed, even at the outset of his verses.

Of all the animals that wing the air,

On earth that move, to ocean's depths repair,
From Paris to Peru-Rome to Japan,
The silliest animal, in my mind, is MAN.

What, you'll directly say, an ant, a worm

That barely crawls, of life that's scarce the germ ;
The bull that ruminates, the brousing goat,

Have they more sense than man? yes, without doubt.
You wonder, Doctor,-well, 'tis no such thing,
Man is of nature the great chief, the king.

Woods, fields, plains, animals, all on him bestow'd;
And he, alone, with reason is endow'd.

'True.-Reason ever was his boasted rule;
Thence I conclude that man's the greater fool.

• This may do well in your satiric page,
And suit the humour of a laughing age.
But to the proof, in form, come-I

agree:

Answer then, Doctor, you the judge shall be.'

These lines certainly convey no representation of Boileau's manner, in any respect. A little farther, we find enur'd used as a rhime to herd; and the following verses, which the translator probably thought were smartly turned:

The town has fools to laugh at without me,
Exclaim'd, last week, the yet untamed marquis;
Who, now entrapt, (a laudable example,)
Is cited of good husbands, as a sample.
Believes that God, expressly, for his sake,
Took a new rib, a faithful wife to make.'

This will never do; and we must beg the writer to exert his honest industry in some other calling, since he is utterly disqualified for any office on Parnassus.

Fer.

Do Art. 37. The Infidel and Christian Philosophers: or the last Hours of Voltaire and Addison contrasted. A Poem. 4to. 18. Vernor and Hood.

The advantages of Christian Faith in the hour of death are indispu table; and since Infidelity cannot administer the consolation, at that period, which is to be derived from the Christian Revelation, the last moments of Voltaire and Addison must, as far as religious principles were concerned. have been materially different: but, though we should choose, for these strong reasons, to die the death of Addison rather than that of Voltaire, we doubt the truth of those accounts which some Romish Priests have given, of the closing scene of the French Philosopher's life. On the authority of the Abbé Barruel, it is thus described in the poem before us:

1

Meanwhile, (ali hopes of life or mercy lost,)
By various fierce contending passions tost,
Curse chasing curse, and groan succeeding groan,
Till Nature fails and Reason quits her throne,
VOLTAINE, in stupor sunk, resigns his breath,
A dreadful victim to remorseless Death!'

To this delineation, the death-bed scene of Addison is opposed a
Mark where Religion near him takes her stand,
And waves the olive sceptre in her hand!
His bed of sickness she with roses strews,

Illumes his prospects, elevates his views;

Bids scenes of soul-enchanting pleasures rise;

And, while yet breathing, wafts him to the skies!"

This poem,
the verse of which is tolerably flowing, concludes with
an address to those self-taught sages, the Infidel Philosophers.

Art. 38. The Creation and Fall of Man. A Poem. By John
Palmer, Schoolmaster, Bath. 4to. 2s. 6d. Sold at Bath by
Hazard.

Mr. Palmer is poor, and afflicted with the gout; and in this situa tion he is intitled to our pity and compassion. We should be happy to relieve his pains and fill his pocket: but, if we encourage bim to write verse, though we may contribute to the former object, we fear that we shall not assist him in the latter. The public are too nice to receive any pleasure froin such lines as these:

Endow'd with sole command and lordly pow'r,
The richest fruits of Eden were their dow'r;
Save only one, whose taste mysterious could
The knowlege 'twixt, or good or ill unfold.'

The fiend assum'd the subtle serpent's shape,
As most convenient to his purpos'd rape.'

We never before knew that Satan's object was to give Adam horns.

Art. 39.
The Five first Stanzas of the Eighteenth Century, or the
Parson's ball. A Satire. 4to. 6d. Crosby and Co.

As we were perusing this pamphlet, the parish bell-man came to us for his annual half-crown, and, unfortunately for the author of the Parson's Ball, left his usual poetical compliment on our table; we ay unfortunately, because, after having read the Christmas thies

of

Moy.

Do

of our honest friend the bellman, the satirist before us appeared so low and vulgar in the comparison, that we threw down his verses as quite intolerable.

Art. 40.

The Curate, an Elegiac Poem. By ****
4to. Is. 6d. Becket.

When the muse volunteers her services in a good cause, we are anxious that she should appear to the best advantage; since the success of her advocacy must in a great measure depend on the degree of pleasure which she excites. Partial to the object pursued in this poem, we wished to discover in it that superior merit which should create the warmest interest in the public mind, in behalf of the subordinate ministers of religion; who, let them be as temperate and self-denying as they may, cannot in these times be

"Passing rich with forty pounds a year."

Applauding, therefore, the motive of this writer, we feel no dispo sition towards what is said to be the pleasure of Reviewers, viz. finding fault. It must be confessed that, as a poem, the production is not without defects: but we shall excuse ourselves from pointing them out. A sentiment, however, occurs in one of the lines, which, for the honour of religion, we cannot suffer to pass unreprobated.

And God delights with grief to prove the Just.'

This is not good divinity. The Deity is indeed represented as
Exercising the virtuous with trials and afflictions, but never as taking
delight in them. Sorrows' prove the just,' not in order to give plea-
sure to the Creator, but to refine the piety of his creatures. This,
we believe, is the doctrine which the poorest curates preach.
Art. 41. The Poetical Works of Eaglesfield Smith, Esq. 8vo.

6

Boards. Johnson. 1802.

The author speaks modestly of these productions, and informs the reader that most of them were written to amuse the tedious hours of a French prison.' This is a very good apology for writing bad verses, but really affords no excuse for their publication: they should have been left in the prison, we conceive, for the amusement of the author's successors. We do not mean to say that Mr. Smith is totally destitute of fancy and invention, but he appears to have little taste or judgment, and he has taken no pains to correct and polish his productions. It is not often, indeed, that we have met with an instance of a writer coming in his own person before the public, in so slovenly an undress.

In the poem of William and Ellen, we have this account of a gang of banditti:

Moy.

Also this animated description of two Scotish chieftains preparing for combat:

Do