Among the English verfes, we have read with pleasure those of Mr. Cartwright, Mr. Philipps, and Mr. Ballard; but Mr. Cartwright's verses appear to us to have been enfeebled, probably 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!

Whofe bright eye beams with glory's rays;
To thee tho' conqueft lend her golden fmiles,
Tho' green thy brow with recent bays;
In all thy fons fee martial ardor reign,

Each breaft enkindling with tumultuous joy;
And native fires dart fierce from ev'ry eye,
As fwells the trumpet's animating ftrain.
Yet cease awhile our bofoms to inspire,
Ye clarions fhrill, nor quell the Mufes lyre:
To peace, Oh! give the milder hour,

And be the voice of thundering war fuppreft;
While Ifis' fons their filial tranfports pour,

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 pleasing enthusiasm, flowing from the happiest and most elegant of all the paffions, 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 pleased, if, after this, we hould give them no fpecimen of his poetry.

Beneath an ancient oak, whofe boughs diffuse

A gloomy covert to the noon-tide ray,

Loft to the bufy world I lay,

And woo'd the Cambrian mufe.

C 3

Here

Here ftones, unknowing of the artift's skill,
The marks of Time's indenting tooth retain,
And rear'd in myftic circles on the hill,

The monuments of Druid-rites remain,
There ftately Milford to th' admiring eye
Difplays her thoufand creeks and ample port;
Yet, ftill a ftranger to fair trade's refort,
Her folitary waves in ufelefs flumber lie.
In Profpect hence Caernarvon's hills arife;
Who, 'midft a pleafing but terrific fcene.
Of hanging precipices fhagg'd with thorn,
Of mouldering rocks with tempefts worn,
And cataracts that foam between,

Like nature, whelm'd in her own ruins, lies.
Thither the British bards retir'd of old,

And dar'd be free;

There, when defeated in unequal war,

Gloried in honest 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, ifluing from their coral caves,

The fea-green Nereids form a ring,

And to the concave fhell's melodious found
In antic measures gambol round their king;
Amaz'd I look'd around.

When lo! in robe of pureft white array'd,

A venerable fhade,

In words like thefe, my warm attention stay❜d.

This vifionary Being fpeaks with good fenfe and propriety upon the fubject in view, and with his fpeech the poem concludes. This fpeech, however, is not without some weak and profaic lines; but thefe, poffibly, may be the manufacture of the cenfors.

The following animated verses are taken from Mr. Ballard's Ode to the Genius of Snowdon..

Genius of that mountain old,
Whofe ancient chiefs in battle bold
Against affailing tyrants flood,
And pour'd to liberty their blood;
Thou, who, on thy Snowdon's height,
Oft at the grey approach of night,
Obferveft many a mailed ghoft,
Leaders once of Cambria's hoft,
Proudly ftalking o'er the heath;
Llewellin, greatest in his death;
And David, faithful by his fide,
With whom his country's freedom dy'd;

And

And murder'd bards, who, fmear'd with gore,
Afcend from dreary Arvon's fhore;
And all affembling in a ring
With taunts defy that ruthless king,
Whofe fated offspring felt the curfe
Denounc'd in fage prophetic verfe.
Genius of that mountain old,

At length your plaintive woes with-hold:
And let each fierce indignant form,
That mutters to the midnight storm,
Your empire loft no more bewail,

But bid returning glory hail.

Profeffor Warton's poem, which concludes this collection, is faid to have been written after the late inftallation at Windfor. Hence the poetic fcenery is borrowed from that ancient palace; and the mighty monuments of British valour there depofited, have a happy effect in warming the poet's imagination, and animating his pencil. What effect they may have upon the mind of the young prince, when he vifits them, we are told in the following verses.

Meantime, the royal piles that rife elate

With many an antique tower, in maffy ftate,

In the young champion's mufing mind fhall raife.
Vaft images of Albion's elder days.

While, as around his eager glance explores

Thy chambers rough with war's conftructed ftores,
Rude helms, and bruifed fhields, barbaric fpoils
Of ancient chivalry's undaunted toils;
Amid the dufky trappings, hung on high
Young Edward's fable mail shall strike his eye;
Shall fire the youth, to crown his riper years
With rival Creffys, and a new Poitiers;
On the fame wall, the fame triumphal bafe,
His own victorious monuments to place.

These high heroic fentiments, which might unhappily animate a young prince to the deftruction of himfelf and his fellow creatures, the Poet wifely endeavours to repress, in the following beautiful verses: the perufal of which has made us some amends for the drudgery of reading many of the poems that are placed before it.

War has its charms terrific. Far and wide

When ftands th' embattled hoft in banner'd pride;
O'er the vext plain when the thrill clangours run,
And the long phalanx flashes in the fun;
When now the dangers of the deathful day
Mar the bright fcene, nor break the firm array,
Full oft, too rafhly glows with fond delight
The youthful breaft, and afks the future fight,

C 4

Not

Nor knows that Horror's form, a spectre wan,
Stalks, yet unfeen, along the gleamy van.
May no fuch rage be thine: no dazzling ray
Of fpecious fame thy ftedfaft feet betray.
Be thine domeftic glory's radiant calm,"
Be thine the fceptred wreath with many a palm;
Ee thine the throne with peaceful emblems hung,
The filver lyre to milder conquefts itrung!
Inftead of glorious feats atchiev'd in arms,
Bid rifing arts difplay their mimic charms:
Juft to thy country's fame, in tranquil days
Record the past, and rouze to future praife:
Before the public eye, in breathing brass,
Bid thy fani'd father's mighty triumphs pafs:
Swell the broad arch with mighty Cuba's fall,
And cloath with Minden's plain th' historic hall.

Then mourn not, Edward's dome, thine ancient boast,
Thy tournaments and lifted combats loft!

From Arthur's board, no more, proud castle, mourn
Adventurous valour's Gothic trophies torn!
Thofe elfin charms, that held in magic night
Its elder fame, and dimm'd its genuine light,
At length diffolve in truth's meridian ray,
And the bright order bursts to perfect day:
The myftic round, begirt with bolder peers,
On Virtue's bafe its refcued glory rears;
Sees civil prowess mightier acts atchieve,
Sees meek humanity diftrefs relieve;
Adopts the worth that bids the conflict cease,

And claims its honours from the chiefs of peace.

2

Ecce iterum SCRIBLERUS! the mirrour of criticifm approacheth: thought on his brow, and papers under his arm. Verily, he bringeth his commentary on the Cambridge Contingent,

Gratulatio Academiæ Cantabrigienfis natales aufpicatiffimos Georgii Wallie principis auguftiffimi Georgii III. Magna Britannia Regis et fereniffime Charlotte Regine Filii celebrantis. Folio. 4s. Sandby, &c.

T was faid of my moft learned friend, MAGLIABECHI, that, upon reading the title-page of a book, he knew its con tents. MAGLIABECHI was the polar ftar of learning; fage were his fayings, and deep was his erudition; he loved books, and loved Spiders; and, pardon this digreffion, gentle Reader, he loved me. Haply, fome portion of his knowlege yet remaineth with SCRIBLERUS; for I profefs, that when I caft mine eye upon the title of this Folio, I preconceived its contents. I knew that much would be faid about the warlike and pacific virtues of the Sovereign of these kingdoms, and the beau

ties and graces of his blooming confort; that the Genii of Britain and of Camus would be conjured up from their refpective abedes, and prophefy the great and wonderful glories that would diftinguifh the reign of the new-born prince; and that in particular he would, in all refpects, be equal unto his royal father. Thefe thoughts, I did preominate, would make the principal part of this Folio, and in truth I was not miftaken. Be not diffted, Reader, that I thus dwell upon mine own fagacity; for thou mayeft, perhaps, remember the time when thou haft done the fame. Didft thou never let fall that common expreffion, "I knew, or, I thought it would be fo?" If thou didft, then didft thou facrifice to thine own fagacity. But old garrulous, and I have been betrayed into prolixity.

age is

I make my reverence, as before, unto the Vice-Chancellor, and begin with Doctor Ogden. When the Doctor wrote a Latin Poem upon the death of his late Majefty, he did weep moft piteoufly, and shed, and talked of fhedding, very many tears. Hence, an ungrateful wag of Oxford did fay fome fportful things about the Doctor's handkerchief. On the marriage of his prefent Majefty, he paid his poetical duty in English; but, alas! he could not then efcape the malicious tooth of criticifin; therefore he hath moft prudently, on this occafion, wrapt up his fentiments in Arabic, fo that the eye of no vulgar critic might penetrate them. All this, peradventure, was done, that the Scripture might be fulfilled, wherein it is faid, that Arabia and Saba fhall bring gifts. And it alfo verifieth the prediction of Mr. Anfell of Trinity-Hall, who, in his Latin poem, faith

-Gemmas, thuraque mittet Arabs,

I affure thee, Reader, that Doctor Ogden's cafket containeth gems and frankincense; but I will not unfold its facred contents, for they are matter unmeet for the vulgar eye.

Mr. John Ranby, of Trinity-College hath fome pretty thoughts in his verfes, and fuch as, though obvious, Lown did not occur to me. He defcribeth the cannon playing, and the bells ringing, upon the birth of the prince, which circumftances are moft natural and true. Hear what merry mufic he maketh. In that throng'd city, which the filver Thames Laves with its swelling tide, the cannon loud As pealing thunder, hails th' aufpicious morn Sacred to freedom: foon the echoing hills To plains far distant bear the welcome found; While to each valley, brook, and humble cot The village bells proclaim their future king.