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Monarchs whom we have assisted in the mighty warfare come to visit us, after their glorious achievements; and this visit awakens recollections of the struggles which have been made and the changes which have been effected. The poet knows how to place this picture before us. Bonaparte invades Russia, and penetrates to Moscow,

"Exitus ergo quis est? O gloria! vincitur idem

Nempe, et in exilium præceps fugit."

Icy arrows overwhelm the invader's army; he escapes: but his veteran army is not to be replaced. He, however, raises another force, and tries his strength at Leipsic; here again he is defeated and flies; the allies pursue him to his capital, and there hurl him from his double throne, and restore France to her antient race of kings. The generous conduct of the allied sovereigns, on taking possession of Paris, is a theme of eulogy: but the poet rather concludes with inflicting a sting than with offering a sugar-plumb.

Ye mighty Kings, a flatterer's honied rhyme
Were poison to a free-born Briton's tongue,
Burst be the harp, that with its luscious chime
Tinkles to slumber souls that scoff at wrong.
By those
ye sway is witness'd what ye are,
Go search the nations! walk your subject earth!
If all be peaceful, free, and blissful there;

Thank Heaven that ye were born of royal birth.'

If these monarchs, on their return home, were to give their subjects the British constitution, their visit to England would indeed be worthy of record.

In the Judicium Regale, we recognize more of genius than of nice execution. The idea is new, but obscurity often prevails, with defective rhythm, and lines scarcely English. The author dreams that he saw the sceptred of the world' assembled in a tall imperial city, and forming a kind of kingly Sanhedrin ;' before which stood an Imperial criminal,' (Bonaparte,) and

from north to south an ireful train

Forth came this mighty culprit to arraign.'

Of the accusing nations, France in the last place prefers her depositions, and concludes with calling on the royal Judges to pass the following sentence:

"For yon dark chief of woe, and guilt, and strife,

O sceptred Judges! punish him with life.

Fear not he seek, with the old Roman pride,
That weakness to the noble soul allied,
To die as Cato, and as Brutus died.
Fear not that in his abject heart he show
That martyr fortitude, that smiles in woe.
By him shall that great secret be betrayed,
Of what poor stuff are earth's dread tyrants made,
Oh, let him live to be despis'd, to see
France happy, and the glorious nations free,
Death were delight to that deep misery!”—

5

• Then

Then did that kingly conclave, with one voice,
Pass the dread sentence on the gloomy man;
In his soul's icy deadness he alone
By others' woes seem'd harden'd to his own.
From land to land the penal tidings ran;
Earth lifted up her rich face to rejoice,

The bright blue heavens bade wintry warring cease,
And spring came dancing o'er a world at peace.'

This poem may be much improved. The passage at p. 28., beginning Was mid,' &c. is devoid of all construction.

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Art. 13. Carmen Seculare: an Ode for the Year 1814. By Arthur Clifford, Esq. 8vo. 2s. Booker.

Never at any period were our poets so full of work, as the taylors would say. In addition to verse-making on account of recent victories, on the return of peace, and on the visit of the allied sovereigns, the bard is required to try his skill in a Secular Ode; for be it known that this year of brilliant events is the hundredth anniversary of the accession of the house of Hanover to the throne of this realm. Even this is not all. It is a singular and auspicious circumstance, that the very day on which King George the First ascended the throne of Great Britain, one hundred years ago, should by the alteration of the style, correspond exactly with the birth-day of his Royal Highness the Prince Regent. George I. succeeded to the crown August 1. 1714. By the alteration of the style, which took place in England, according to act of Parliament, in 1751-2, when eleven days were at once thrown out of the Calendar, the 1st of August of the year 1714 coincides exactly with the 12th of August of this present year, 1814.'

This coincidence is very near, but not quite exact; because, since the commencement of the present century, the difference between the old and the new style is twelve days; in the year 1800, another day having been thrown out, by assigning only 28 days to February; which, according to the ordinary rule of leap-year, ought to have had 29.

To this ode is also prefixed a Sketch of the Origin and Antiquity of the House of Brunswick, which is not only traced up to the Guelphs, whose quarrels with the Ghibellines make such a figure in the history of Italy in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but also to the lines of Este in Italy, and Guelph in Germany, a thousand years ago; Guelph I., Count or Duke of Bavaria, being contemporary with Charlemagne.

For boldness of character, this ode merits the epithet Pindaric: but in its structure it too much reminds us of Gray's Bard. Charlemagne, passing through the woods of Vallombrosa, is arrested by the awful sounds of

"Halt, King! hear the true prophetic strain

That shall eclipse thy reign."

Struck with astonishment, the monarch checks his course, when a reverend hermit appears, and delivers the mysterious prophetic tale of the glories which were in reserve for the Brunswick race:

"Ye

"Ye far-famed potentates of ancient days!
Hide your diminished rays.

Realms, where the Greek and Roman never trod,
Bow to great George's nod.

Why in the eastern sky afar,
Where primeval nations dwell;
Why so bright yon blazing star?
Who the omen can foretel?

Shall Britain's thunder heaven-born Nile affright?
Shall Ganges roll his floods submissive to her might?
"Ah! when shall discord, war, and bloodshed cease?
Who give the nations peace?

What favoured Prince, with more than sovereign power,
Shall seal the happy hour?
Earthquakes rend the solid ground,
Dread volcanoes whelm the land,
Floods their deluge pour around,
Plagues appal in horrid band.

O'er guilty nations vengeful furies spread

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Does George uphold her cause?-fall'n Europe lifts her head.
"Hail! Royal daughter! hope of Britain, hail!
To thee, each sea-born gale,

From earth's remotest isles, on gladsome wing,
Shall Ocean's homage bring.

Through orange groves and myrtle bowers,
Led by laughing loves she plays,
Circled by the rosy hours,

O'er the flowery scene she strays.

From her, what kings their proud descent shall claim!
What nations shall exult in Royal Charlotte's name!

"Ye unborn ages! countless suns that roll!

Ye overwhelm my soul.

To thee, immortal Chief! and to thy seed,
An empire is decreed.

A thousand years shall fly apace,
Moments in the ETERNAL's eye,
When another regal race

Thee and thine shall far out vie.

Bright in the western main I see them bloom,

Fixed is their brilliant fate, fixed is their glorious doom."' After having delivered this prediction, the hermit retires, and Charlemagne proceeds to Rome.

Our victories on the Nile and our possessions on the Ganges are very properly introduced into this Secular Ode, which hymns the unrivalled glory and unprecedented prosperity of Great Britain at the present moment.

Art. 14. Ode to the Emperor Alexander. By the Author of "The Orphans, or the Battle of Nevil's Cross." 8vo. and Davies.

IS.

Cadell

After

After a variety of laurel-crowns, garlands, and triumphal arches, prepared for the victorious Alexander, here comes a little chaplet of Parnassian weeds. Surely this offering might have been spared, since it is not creditable to the hand that presents it, nor worthy of the august brow for which it is intended. On joyful occasions, the bard who gives his improvisatore effusion is pardoned some faults: but a printed ode in the following style cannot pass muster:

Scarce had thy youthful brow

The regal round engirt, in happy hour,
When feeling for thy fellows trampled low

(Earth's monarchs once!) by Gaul's prevailing pow'r,
Germania's fields thou sought,

And aiding Asia, hosted Europe brought.'

For the reputation of the British muse, we hope that this ode has little chance of meeting the eye of the Emperor Alexander. Art. 15. Ode to Wellington. By the Author of the "Ode to the Emperor Alexander." 8vo. Is. 6d. Cadell and Davies. "Who would not sing" for Wellington? and though we cannot add, "He knew himself to sing and build the lofty rhime," he has achieved fame so truly towering that every muse is ready to build for him the lofty rhime, and, conceiving that more honour is received than conveyed in this service, will adopt the humble language of Pope,

"Say shall my little bark attendant sail,

Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?"

The minstrel before us, notwithstanding the improved dexterity with which he here strikes his lyre, feels himself unequal to the grandeur of his subject, which ought to "call another Grecian from the skies," and in the introduction humbly mentions his 'weaker wing.' It is unfortunate for the bard that many others have preceded him in the same track; and that the victories of the deliverer of Spain have been so often recounted, that it requires genius of the highest order to invest this favourite topic with any air of novelty. One rule, however, should be observed even by the lyric muse, who in her wildest flights ought not to lose her memory, viz. the order of events; and therefore the victory of Busaco should not be mentioned before that of Talavera.

This short ode opens with welcoming the hero to his home, and concludes with wishing that, as a reward for the toils of war, he may long enjoy peace:

Wake the voice of peace and pleasure!
Lead the dance to Lydian measure!

Now retreating, now advancing,

Jocund see the happy swain,

Beauty's smile the bliss enhancing,

Featly foot the daisied plain !

Land of my heart! may singing shepherd tend,
Long on thy slopes, in peace, his fleecy care;

And

And peaceful long the whistling plowman wend

His homeward way, nor dream of rampant war!
And long may he who bade the storm to cease,

Crown'd with a people's love, bask in the sun of peace! !'

On the cover of this pamphlet, the public is informed that the whole proceeds of the two odes (free of expence) will be applied in aid of the fund for the relief of the sufferers by war in Germany.'

Art. 16. Midnight Dreams; or prophetic Visions of the R-1 Blood. A Poem, by Peter Pindar, Esq. 8vo. 28. Johnston. "Beware of counterfeits," is a hint as necessary in Pater-nosterrow as in Cheapside. To fight under false colours is a common ruse de guerre with authors; and we more than suspect that, in the present instance, some artful fox has put on the skin of the old lion : but alas! it is the skin without the muscle. In this and the two recent productions which bore the name of our old facetious friend, an uniformity of stanza prevails which is unlike the sportive and lyric muse of the original Peter. He, we fear, has done with wit, and his self-made namesake follows him haud passibus aquis. These Midnight Dreams contain satirical sketches of the r-1 brothers, and are meant in some instances "to speak daggers," but form on the whole a heavy detail, running through 152 stanzas. The recitations of the r-l dreamers, viz. the Pe Rt and the Dukes of Y-k, Cl—e, and Cd, disclose facts which conscience, in the visions of the night, is apt to display. To the last, the ghost of Ss, with a razor in his hand, makes his appearance; and many stanzas are employed to aid our recollection of this melancholy story. The subject is indeed too serious for satire; and the stanzas which are meant to hold the Pe up to ridicule are too coarse and low.

Art. 17. The Poet's Disaster; or a Peep at Parnassus. Humbly inscribed to certain candid Reviewers. 8vo. 1s. 6d. Riving

tons.

It seemed that in a horse-pond foul,
Most impiously cast!

I had, as you have lately seen,

All but breathed out my last.'

A set of odd-like fellows in masquerade' are accused of having given the author this foul ducking, and by these odd-like fellows he means Reviewers; who, in his partial judgment, have treated his muse too roughly on some former occasion. An application is then made to Criticism, by way of finale, who is required to be candid, though sternly just. The author, however, does not know what he asks; for were critics, with the very soul of candour, to be strictly just in their strictures on this poem, he would dream a second time of being soused in a horse-pond.

Art. 18. The Poetical Works of Richard Hatt, Author of the "Hermit," &c. including Supplementary Poems; with a Letter to the Rev. John Sim, A.B. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s. 6d. Boards. Westley and Co. 1814.

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