"Here is a heavy task for the Mufes of Oxford." Very properly expreffed, and the task hath been as properly executed. Mr. Lewis Bagot, of Chrift Church thus beginneth his gratulatory song. Thofe votive strains, O Ifis, that but now I cannot bear the idle infinuations of a certain minor critic, who hath remarked upon this paffage, that there were not an hundred virgins in Oxford; and his obfervation, that the word beck is here to be taken in the fenfe that it bears in the North of England, and fignifies a ftream, is altogether abfurd; tend thy beck is the fame as await thy nod, but much more elegant. This poet doth make his majefty prattle most prettily unto his infant, and tell it, that he is going to make peace: No, my little one, Should heav'n with folt'ring care thy tender age Mr. James Merrick addreffeth his verses to the King, and maketh an apology to his majesty for not finging on his birthday, as he doth now on that of his fon. I think his apology ought to be admitted, as he affureth us that his brother died the fame day that his prefent majefty was born. There is no doubt but his fovereign will excufe him. It would have been unreafonable to expect that he fhould fing under fuch circumftances; and the verfes wherewith he complimenteth the prince, may do very well for the birth-day of his father. How liable to error are all human beings! Martinus Scriblerus himself is not infallible. I profefs that, at firft fight, I took the poem written by Mr. Hugh Jones of Oriel College to be Welch; but I find that the Poet hath moft artfully reprefented the young prince himself finging upon the occafion of his birth, and that the language is fuch broken English as children do fweetly lifp forth, upon their firft learning to talk. After having conquered all languages that are or have been spoken by men, I applied myself to thofe of children and birds, of which I now find the great utility, in being able to decypher Mr. Jones's ingenious poem, fome fpecimens of which here follow. The Decyphered. Ah, there's an odd The POEM. A daranodd Ergydiau i'r rhiwiau rhodd. Bloedd o nenn, heb lådd neb; Ryw ardderchog dywyfog da: Undewrwych, y'no 'n deran, 'N crio a geir, (un cr'g, a gwan) Heb flino ei ceir blaenor câd. I would proceed with my decyphering, but the language of infants, like that of dreams, is facred, and by no means meet for the vulgar car. Mr John Symmons defcribeth in pathetic ftrains her majefty's falling fick, and the concern of her royal spouse upon the occafion. The thing was very fudden. Long had his Charlotte bleft the godlike prince, Attun'd. When lo! (fad change!) his confort faints. Sad change, indeed! what shall be done? Shall we call for fpirits of hartfhorn, or a midwife? But the King, the poor King, is not much better; he is most piteously affected; lo! he weepeth, and pulleth off his gown and his garters. Quick, mindful of her charms, and accents foft, But, good heaven! what a surprising thing is here! the King too, it feems, was pregnant grief, till Lucina lent her aid. garters, he at the fame time, and in great Having put off his robe and his Then fought retirement to indulge a thought, These surprising turns fhew the great art of the poet, and are what Horace calleth -Specifa miracula rerum. It is moreover the great art and excellence of a poet to throw new light upon his fubject, and to fay fuch things as might not occur to a common imagination. Thus Mr. Shackleford hath, in his Greek poem, complimented the Queen upon her majesty's handfome leg: Χαίρε γυνή ματές, Βρελενων καλλισφως άνασσα. That is, "Hail, matron; pretty-ancled queen of Britaîn!" A little farther he faith, that the gods love her, because the brought C 2 brought her husband a fon in ten months;" and he concludeth with a wifh, that she may have a chopping boy every year. Mr. Dennis, having firft maturely confidered his fubject, beginneth his poem on the birth of the prince very judiciously in the genuine language of a nurse. Bleffings on heav'n's high King! Had this gentleman obferved the nutrician style through the whole of his poem, I fhould have greatly praised him; but when he fpeaketh of heaven's high Queen, he uttereth words unmeet for nurse's tongue. It feemeth, that thefe verfes of Mr. Dennis's were written on the very day the prince was born, for fo I underftand the following line: The learned Scriblerus having laid down the pen, we prefume to take it up, and to employ it a moment in favour of thofc few poems in this collection, which have given us either pleasure or entertainment. Among the Latin verses, those of the honourable Mr. Lyttelton, Mr. Lawrence, and Mr. Jones deferve to be mentioned with diftinction. Mr. Jones's poem is written with the fpirit and ease of Catullus, and we fhall therefore give it our Readers entire. Infans, deliciæ et decus tuorum, Quam tu, Phæbe, novemque quam forores "Et me, numina, habebitis patronum." Hos, dilecte puer, fonos per annos Proferre Proferre haud licuit tibi volenti, Te laudant, cupiunt, fovent parentes, Among the English verfes, we have read with pleasure those of Mr. Cartwright, Mr. Philipps, and Mr. Ballard; but Mr. Cartwright's verles appear to us to have been enfeebled, pro bably by the mifcorrecting hands of the univerfity cenfors, who' frequently do more hurt than good. This, however, is only conjecture. Thus the Poet addreffes himself to his country: Fair Queen of ocean-crowning ifles! Whose bright eye beams with glory's rays; Each breaft enkindling with tumultuous joy; And be the voice of thundering war fuppreft; And join the heart-felt joy that glows in every breast. There is both harmony and imagination in the above-quoted ftanza; but the word fee, which we have printed in Italics, ought, on account of the connection, to have been though. There is, in Mr. Philipps' poem, a pleafing enthusiasm, flowing from the happiest and most elegant of all the paflions, the love of the Mufes and of his native country. We fuppofe that this gentleman, the fon of Sir John Philipps, is a native of Wales; and we cannot but congratulate him on that genuine fpirit of Cambrian poetry and patriotifm which his verfes difplay. Our Readers would not be pleafed, if, after this, we hould give them no specimen of his poetry. Beneath an ancient oak, whose boughs diffuse A gloomy covert to the noon-tide ray, Loft to the bufy world I lay, And woo'd the Cambrian muse. C 3 Here Here ftones, unknowing of the artift's kill, The monuments of Druid-rites remain, Like nature, whelm'd in her own ruins, lies. And dar'd be free; There, when defeated in unequal war, Gloried in honeft poverty; And fcorn'd with chains of gold to draw the victor's car. Old Ocean fmil'd, and fmooth'd his ruffled waves; When, iffuing from their coral caves, The fea-green Nereids form a ring, And to the concave fhell's melodious found When lo! in robe of pureft white array'd, A venerable fhade, In words like these, my warm attention stay❜d. 1 This vifionary Being speaks with good fenfe and propriety upon the fubject in view, and with his fpeech the poem concludes. This speech, however, is not without fome weak and profaic lines; but thefe, poffibly, may be the manufacture of the cenfors. The following animated verfes are taken from Mr. Ballard's Ode to the Genius of Snowdon. Genius of that mountain old, Whose ancient chiefs in battle bold. And |