He belongs to no faction-to no particular set of men; and the impartiality with which he relates the political contests he has occasion to notice, justly entitles him to the approbation of all parties. The Spirit of Anti-Jacobinism for 1802: being a Collection of Essays, Dissertations, and other Pieces, in Prose and Verse, on Subjects Religious, Moral, Political, and Literary; partly selected from the Fugitive Publications of the Day, and partly Original. London. 1802. LAST month we had to commend the Spirit of the Public Journals, evidently edited with uncommon care and impartiality; now it falls to our lot to mention a somewhat similar collection, only avowedly written on one side of the question. Many poems, and many prose pieces inserted have great merit. "A Touch at the Terrific, in Imi. tation of some of our Contemporaries," is no unequal parody on the popular ballad of Alonzo and Imogene. It is said that a cottager once passed his life In the shade of a forest profound; And content might have been, had he not had a wife Till death laid her low in the ground. 'Twas midnight! though loudly the tempest did rave, Every storm from without he could easily brave, Her green saucer eyes, with terrific grimace, She on him most tremendously glanc'd; She hugg'd him close round in a thrilling embrace Then silence thus broke: "How are you, my dear? "As I thought you'd be dull in this evening so drear, Now he trembled all over with terror and rage, And he tore off the hair from his head: "Nought," said he, "while you liv'd could your clamour assuage; "But why must I for ever your d-n'd tongue engage? "Zounds! why can't it rest now you're dead?" Thus teaz'd, soon he plung'd, hurry'd on by despair, And 'tis said dreadful scoldings are heard in the air; When hoots the screech owl on the old cottage walls, Still knave, thief, and cuckold, her husband she calls; "Zounds! why can't you rest now you're dead?" Massouf; or, the Philosophy of a Day. 12mo. 1802. UNDER the garb of an Eastern Tale, Massouf attacks fashionable philosophy in a strain of admirable satire. The theme is extensive, and the author has wielded his weapon with considerable force of ridicule. Lancaster Electioneering Papers, 1802. The Candidates the Mar quis of Douglas, John Dent, Esq. and John Fenton Cawthorne, Esq. 8vo. 56 pp. Lancaster and London, 1802. NOTHING has so general a tendency to disturb the peace of society, as a general election. It divides and separates the dearest ties and best affections: internal discord and civil commotion are introduced by it. Among the many great and new regulations of our ancestors, this privilege seems to have forcibly struck them, as a bulwark of our liberties, which should not too frequently occur. They saw the extent to which popular phrenzy would lead men, and, therefore, by the institution of septennial parliaments, subject to the will of the monarch gave time for men's courage to cool, and the heat of the battle and its consequences to subside. The papers before us authorise these observations, since, surely, more bitter invective never issued from the press, especially those squibs published by the adversaries of Mr. Cawthorne. His opponents seem to have raked up the leaven of animosity, and of rancour, from their lowest and most obscure hiding place. Personal abuse, and private anecdote, turned, twisted, and perverted to the worst of purposes, is no proof of the goodness of a cause, or the purity and soundness of principle. The wit, and the good writing, seem only to distinguish those papers written by the friends of Cawthorne. Poems by George Dyer. In two Volumes. 12mo. London. 1802. "To the candour of the public (says Mr. Dyer in his prefatory essay) are now submitted two volumes, different somewhat, both in form and contents, from what were originally intended, and from what will, probably, be expected by several readers. My apology is such as will, it is hoped, satisfy the considerate and judicious. It was not to humour any particular conceit, or to gratify a constitutional indolence, that the present plan has been adopted. The counsel of persons has been followed, very competent to give advice, because not likely to be mistaken in their judgment; persons who had no interest of their own to serve, but who were well acquainted with the taste of the public." From the perusal of this ingenuous statement, and from the difference of having two portable volumes put into our hands instead of two unwieldly ones, we rise well satisfied with the author's deviation from his original plan, and we applaud that tractability of spirit which inclined him to adopt the recommendation of his literary friends. English poetry, in her external form, has undergone several changes during the progress of a century. In the time of Pope, she assumed a gigantic stateliness, and strutted in lofty folio. At an era which shortly followed, her stature diminished to a quarto size. She afterwards accommodated herself to an octavo : and is now making the elegant symmetry of a medium duodecimo her fashionable standard. When the fanciful changeling dwindles lower, she becomes a dowdy, and is too diminutive to be made companionable. Thus much in reference to the exterior of this publication. In point of matter, which is a more important consideration, we find still higher attractions to invite our praise. The poems are of singular and original merit : and Mr. Dyer has given a very agreeable novelty to his volumes, by dividing his poems into four classes, and prefixing to each division, introductory essays on lyric, elegiac, and representative poetry, with cursory remarks on the dreams and visions of authorship. These essays abound with critical opinions, which are always classically ingenious, if not philosophically just; and they are delivered less with the didactic harshness of a censor, than with the good-humoured frankness of a social companion. It would gratify us to transcribe largely from the prose and poetry of these amusing volumes; but we must content ourselves with a single extract from each. Having pointed out with concise and judicious discrimination, the most distinguished writers of odes among the Greek, Roman, Italian, French, and German poets, Mr. Dyer proceeds to make the following candid observations on those of our own nation. "Of the English writers, who are professedly lyrists, the first of any consideration is Cowley, an exquisite poet, unquestionably; yet a writer always catching at brilliancy, and toiling after wit: qualities which should but sparingly be scattered on a spot where elegance, spirit, and sublimity, form the distin guishing character. Cowley's poetry, like flowers in too rich a soil, present you with beauty too soon acquired; and lose, proportionably, their vigour and strength. Cowley might have been one of the best writers in this department, but for those puerilities, so justly condemned by Longinus. As to his Anacreontics, being paraphrases, and not translations, they want the simplicity and melody of the original. However, they are still charming, and if they sometimes lose sight of the original, they frequently surpass it. "Waller had an elegant mind, and possessed the merit of giving some refinement to English versification. His compliments are often prettily shaped, and his measures agreeably polished; but they want fire, and possess not that rich inventive faculty which constitutes the essence of poetry. "Prior possessed genius, and is sometimes elegant, but is more often characterised by prettiness or humour. His Carmen Seculare, like too many of our English odes that run into extravagant lengths, is heavy and tedious. "Dryden, unquestionably, possessed a genius equal to any design in poetry, had he but finished with elegance what he conceived with energy: but even his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, with all its fire, vigour, and sublimity, is defective in taste, and has some meaner parts, that should never have appeared in so dignified a composition. "Shenstone has been long acknowledged as the lady's poet; and his four lyrical ballads, with such of his odes as express the querulousness of disappointed love, are tender and pleasing; the sentiment is natural and pathetic; the numbers are soft and soothing. But his pictures, if I may so speak, are too minute and local; the productions of a man always serenading the birds in his own garden, and whose views, as Gray expresses it, were bounded by the Leasowes. "Akenside was a great poet, and possessed considerable merit as a lyrist.Of his Hymn to the Naiads-which, though written in blank verse, I shall, with permission of the critics, reckon a lyric poem-it is little to say, that it displays much learning; the poetry is beautiful, and the mythological language no less appropriate than brilliant: for he wrote, as believing the Platonic philosophy-to borrow his own language- to imitate the manner of the Platonists, and to conform to their opinions.' This circumstance I the rather mention, in order to characterise that species of imitation, which has for its object the ancient mythology. In Akenside's Hymn to the Naiads it is natural, and for the reason just assigned in Mason's ode on a similar subject, and in many other of his odes, it is improper and unnatural-though this classical affectation is crowded into our lyric poetry more frequently than into any other-and, unless a writer believes the ancient mythology, or assumes the character of one who believes it, or unless he speaks in a way of mere allusion, illustration, or comparison, it is always improper. Mason, however, is a fine lyric poet: his odes are elegant and classical: but Gray's, of all others in our language, are the most truly lyrical and sublime." After these, and more extended observations of similar tendency, Mr. Dyer says, "the reader must not hence conclude that I think highly of my own performances. Far, very far, am I from great pretensions and a fair method of reasoning must lead every reader : to give me credit for sincerity: for I have gone into the above detail, to shew the great difficulty and excellence of this style of poetry, and in some sort, to vindicate its character. As to the following volume, its very pretensions are moderate: it is indeed but an effort at the lighter exercise of lyric poetry: and how far even any of these pieces are successful attempts, the reader will judge." We regret that our prescribed limits will not give the poetical reader a fairer opportunity of appreciating Mr. Dyer's modest estimate of his own talent, for we have only room to insert the first portion of an ode. "On the Clofe of Autumn, after rambling through Cambridgeshire and Essex. "Now farewell summer's fervid sky, That, while the sun through Cancer rides, And farewell earlier Autumn's milder ray, "What different sounds around me rise! Now midst a barren scene I rove, Where the rash sportsman frights the grove. Blest the mild warblers of the rising year; Yet still in Autumn's fading form The sober matron's modest face : Mild-beaming suns, oft hid by fleeting clouds, Blue-mantled skies, light-fring'd with golden hues, |
