they threaten agitation to effect a repeal of the legislative union— if they are gratified, they will be placed in a condition_eminently calculated to render the project for repeal successful. In point of expediency, is it better to give them power, or to encounter what would be now their (comparatively) impotent agitation? In point of expediency, would it be better to encourage and strengthen the Roman Catholic party by continued concession, or to make a stand against violence, and expose to the honourable and uninformed members of the party the real character of the Church they countenance and strengthen? And, in point of expediency, is it better to abandon a million and a half, or perhaps two millions of Protestants, tried friends of England, to persecution which must waste or change them, or to give them the protection which in the year 1799 we solemnly promised? But we have done with questions, and conclude with a counsel from a speech which we have already quoted— Again it is asked, "Will the Catholics be content with a limited franchise?" But I say, it is not what will content them, but what ought to content them, that we ought to consider. I am willing to give them everything, except what will terminate in our own destruction. In some things I would even go farther than the bill, though in the franchise I would not go so far. The misfortune is, that the right honourable gentleman who has negociated it does not understand the internal state of the country, and is ignorant of its interests.' This was the advice of Sir Laurence Parsons. We wish the truth of his prediction, the wisdom of his warning, so painfully confirmed, could ensure its adoption. ART. V.-1. Winchester, and a few other Compositions, in Prose and Verse. By the Rev. Charles Townsend, Winchester. 4to. 1835. 2. Epistle to the Right Honourable John Hookham Frere in Malta. By William Stewart Rose. Brighton. 8vo. 1834. THE HE circulation of Mr. Townsend's Miscellanies has, we believe, been hitherto confined to Winchester and his own intimates: Mr. Rose's Epistle to Mr. Frere has been only privately printed; but we are happy in being allowed to consider it as publici juris, both because we regard it as among the best of his compositions, and because Mr. Townsend may be said to be its hero. Few persons of literary taste, who have had occasion to visit Brighton of late years, can have failed to hear something of that gentleman: there is, we believe, no settled inhabitant of that neighbourhood who will not acknowledge the discriminating accuracy accuracy of his friend's description of him; and so well do the Miscellanies of 1835 illustrate and confirm the Epistle of 1834, that we are glad of this opportunity to place them together, as the materials of one complete and charming portraiture. We heartily wish Mr. Rose would write many such rhyming letters as this to Mr. Frere. It is very lightly and elegantly versified; its transitions are at once easy and rapid; and with much knowledge of society, and playful sarcasm on its follies, there are mixed up a thorough candour and good sense, and here and there such a vein of true feeling for the beauties of external nature, that, on the whole, our moral and critical tastes have been equally gratified in the perusal. It is delightful to find the poet surviving to grace the retirement, and mellow the retrospect, of the man of the world. The Epistle opens thus: That bound like bold Prometheus on a rock, O While worse than vulture pecks and pines your liver;- Seared with the glare of "hot and copper sky;" Where dwindled tree o'ershadows withered sward, Where green blade grows not; where the ground is charred :- You turn to look upon a summer sea, Whitening and brightening on that field of blue; Grave, turbanned Turk, and Moor of swarthy cheek ;— The symbols of a monkish chivalry; The vaulted roof, impervious to the bomb, The votive tablet, and the victor's tomb, Where vanquished Moslem, captive to his sword, Forced Forced alms must purchase from a greedy crowd, Who landing-place, street, stair, and temple crowd :- I muse-and think you might prefer my town, Its pensile pier, dry beach, and breezy down.'-Rose, pp. 1-3. A description of a ride by the Devil's Dyke introduces to Mr. Frere the usual companion of Mr. Rose's rambles on the Brighton downs-the same to whom he once sent, by post, a letter, with this epigraph 'The Reverend Charles Townsend, (best on The list of Sussex parsons,) PRESTON.' These breezy downs,' with their endless variety of sea-view and land view, constitute the great charm of a residence at Brighton; but no visitant can have forgotten the delightful contrast afforded, on descending from their heights to the rich soft pastures, the ancient groves, and the modest little hamlet of Preston. All this Mr. Rose paints with a truth and lightness of touch which recalls the better day of English rhyme. Upon this rumpled bed of thyme and turf I loiter, listening to the rumbling surf; Or idly mark the shadows as they fly, While green Earth maps the changes of the sky; • Here 'Here oft, descending through a double swell, Embosoming a hamlet, church and yard, Here busy boats are seen: some overhawl Their loaded nets: some shoot the lightened trawl ; *Though plate-armour had soon after that event been introduced, we do not find any admixture of it-not even in the helmets of the assassins-while we may conclude from their rank and station that they would have adopted it if already used.' While some make sail; and singly or together, 'I love smooth water and blue sky; vext sea, Wherewith to guage a doubtful good or pleasure.'-Rose, p. 7. The evening scene is not unworthy of the morning one. We are sorry to omit some fine lines on Mr. Frere's literary character which the passage introduces-but must adhere to the Brighton friends. 'Often this ready friend with whom I roam, Runs on chace, race, horse, mare; fair, bear, and monkey; Whose godhead, while the gadding vine shall climb 'Yet that old saw, great talkers do the least, *Pythagoras.' Vin de grave, or gravel wine.' Vin de paille, so called from the juice of which it is made running spontaneously from grapes laid upon hurdles and straw.' Who |