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elegant epitaph on any person undistinguished by military, civil, or literary exertions. I would wish eri however to except the following lines, which, in a parish in Yorkshire, cover the bones of an honest yeoman; whose merit seems to have been understood by the author, though he might have been prevented from recurring to feigned topics by the want of art evident in the construction of the lines,—I shall subject them to the perusal of my reader; they are as follow:

John Bell Brokenbow
Laies under this stane,
Four of my eene sonnes
Laied it on my weame,
I was master of my meat,
Master of my wife,
I lived on my own lands
Without mickle strife.

How much more glorious is this simple testimony to the undistinguished merits of a private man, than if it had announced the bones of a general, who, by the singular favour of fortune, had, with the loss of only twenty thousand individuals of the same country with himself, slaughtered two hundred thousand, guilty of being divided from it by a narrow sea, or a chain of mountains! The merit of the former character is evidently superior; yet our admiration had undoubtedly sided with the latter.

Not that this meritorious inaction is always undistinguished by observation and applause; the character of Atticus, is not perhaps less remarkable for its literary excellence, than the inactive acquiescence which he betrayed at a period when any degree of eminence must have been attended with consequences more or less repugnant to the interests of his country. How different is this patriotic conquest, over a desire of glory not to be obtained in a manner consistent with his country's welfare, from

the obstinacy of another character equally eminent about the same time, who would have

Blush'd if Cato's house had stood,

Secure, and flourished in a civil war.

It should seem doubtful whether the poet meant this sentiment for the effect of a natural impulse on the occasion which introduces it, or the result of an affectation eminent in the original character; and which could not have escaped the author, though so much its admirer: certain I am, that it could not proceed from the feelings of nature, even admitting the possibility of any connexion subsisting between an individual and his country, which did not in a stronger manner tie him to his family. I shall not at present arraign the policy which dictated a law to the Athenians, inflicting disgrace and ignominy on any one who in a public dissension might remain inactive; however, the observer may discover in this edict, the source of those disturbances which continually divided the state, and ended but in its ruin.

But to return to my subject, and perhaps it may not be entirely foreign from it, to observe, that admitting the desire of glory to have so great an influence as I contend it is possessed of; the higher ranks in life may be cleared of an imputation under which they have long laboured. I allude to an opinion extremely prevalent, that all national depravity and corruption, before it descends to the lower classes, originates among their superiors. The regard paid by the lower ranks to the example and authority of their superiors, has been cited, and with some degree of plausibility, to support this opinion; but is not this influence effectually and entirely counterbalanced, by the distribution of censure and applause which resides entirely in the hands of the commonalty? or can any one doubt the influence which the common people have with their superiors,

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when he sees the forms of government change with
the disposition of the people; and the affectation of
ignorance and illiberality assumed by the higher or-
ders at home, in their dress, manners, and conver-
sation? We readily grant a propensity in the infe-
rior orders to imitate the actions of their superiors;
but is not imitation the height of flattery? and does
not a readiness to receive and copy the depraved
manners of a superior order, suppose a previous
depravity in the people?

Perhaps the only true criterion of the utility or
dangerous tendency of this passion, is the disposition
of the times; for the same spirit which in a more
corrupt period carries the enthusiast for it to the
height of excess and extravagance, would, in an era
of more simple manners, have produced the exact

reverse;

Lucullus, when frugality could charm,
Had roasted turnips in his sabine farm.

And Cincinnatus, had he lived in a period less dis-
posed to honour a virtuous poverty, might probably
have changed the frugality of his simple meal, for
the luxury of the Apollo.

The present path to glory, and consequently that
which its votaries pursue, is faction; and even in
this lesser world the observer may discover a dema-
gogue in embryo, distinguished perhaps only for
stronger powers of vociferation. But here, as upon
all other occasions, the MICROCOSMOPOLITAN
would wish to avoid misapprehension, and while he
reprobates a turbulence of behaviour, does not wish
his readers entirely to discard their judgment and
free-will, and to degrade themselves to the rank
of nonentities, or, according to a more accepted
phrase, ciphers. The great increase of the above-
mentioned species calls for attention; whether it
proceeds from a prevailing idea that an individual,

like a numerical figure, is made of more consequence by the addition of a cipher, or from a fear in its promoters, of a discovery of their own weakness; as the cruel policy of Semiramis had its origin in an apprehension, that her sex might be discovered by an unprecedented want of beard. From whatever cause the present increase of this species arises, it is now grown to so formidable a height, as to require the attention of the public, and more particularly of the MICROCOSMOPOLITAN.

I would wish to present to the perusal of my readers, the following lines, not entirely foreign from some part of this essay; and at the same time admonish them, that the smile of Melpomene at the birth of a poet is useless, without that of his readers on his publication.

I.

Within the sounding quiver's hollow womb
Repose the darts of praise and harmony;
Goddess, draw forth the chosen shaft; at whom
Shall the swift arrows of the muses fly?
By the great Almighty Mind,
For man's highly-favoured race,
Various blessings were design'd,
Bounties of superior grace;
Here the fat and fertile ground
Waves the flood of harvest round,
Or fervid wine's extatic juice
Cluster-curved vines produce;

A sullen land of lazy lakes

Rhine slowly winding to the ocean makes,
This rescued from the eager wave

Human art has dar'd to save,

While o'er each foggy pool and cheerless fen
Hums the busy buz of men.

A warlike nation bent on deathful deeds

From daring actions safety seeks, and fame,
Rush thro' the ranks, where'er the battle bleeds,

Or whirl their neighing coursers thro' the flame.

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The Indian youth beneath the shade
More loves repose and peace,
And underneath his plantain laid
Sings indolence and ease.

II.

Thus far with unerring hand
All ruling Providence has plann'd,
Thus far impartial to divide

Nor all to one, nor one to all denied.
But order, heav'n-descended queen,
Where'er you deign to go,

Alone you fix the bounds between
Our happiness and woe,

Nor wealth, nor peace, nor without thee
Heav'n's first best bounty, liberty,
Can bless our native land.

Then come, O nymph! and o'er this isle
Dispense thy soul-subduing smile,
And stretch thy lenient hand.

III.

Before time was, before the day
Shot thro' the skies his golden ray,
A sightless mass, a wasteful wild
Tumultuous gulf, was all this fair creation,
Till you the shapeless chaos reconcil'd,
Each part commanding to its proper station!
Then hills upheav'd their verdant head,
Above a purer sky was spread,
And ocean floated in his ample bed:
Then first creeping to the main
Rivers drew their tortuous train;
Then from her fertile womb the earth
Brought forth at one ample birth,
All that through the waste of sky
Borne on oary pinions fly,

Or thro' the deep's dark caverns roam,
And wallowing dash the sea to foam;
Tutor'd by your guiding sway,

The planets trace their pathless way,
The seasons in their order'd dance
In grateful interchange advance!
But when, O Goddess, wilt thou deign,
O'er favour'd man to stretch thy reign?
Then shall sedition's tempest cease,
The dashing storm be hush'd to peace,