The foul is feated in Valhalla's halls,

But by my potent art I'll call it back,
Force it to animate the bloody limbs,

And truly anfwer thy demands. She fpake,

And blue light flash'd around

me; I beheld

The bleeding man.-With hoarfe rough voice the 'gan
To found the runic rhyme, and finging ftill,
The corfe uprear'd his head and clotted hair,
And flowly caft his ghaftly eyes around,
Then funk again, as if the foul had fear'd
To animate a hateful mangled body.
The prophetess obferv'd him, and in wrath
She feiz'd a living fnake, and lafh'd his limbs :-
Uprofe the corfe, his languid eyes he fix'd
On me thus fpeaking-Tell me, Carril, quickly,
For well I know thee, Carril, what's thy pleafure?
Difmif's me hence with speed to halls of joy.
Warrior, I faid, is Harold's death decreed?-
He bleeds, he bleeds, I fee him fall
On the corfe-fpread plain-

Send me back to halls of joy.

Yet fpeak, fhall Moina with her Carril dwell?
E'er the fetting fun fhail fhoot
His reddeft rays across the waves
Moina's woes fhall be at peace-
I go, I go, to halls of joy-

He faid, and fmiling fullenly fell lifeless.
Then from the cave with joyous steps I haften'd,
To bear the glad forebodings to my Moina.'

Soon arrives the corfe of Harold, borne by his furviving comrades, and the bards greet the fallen leader in a lofty ode. They then proceed to the grave, and according to the Scandinavian rite, they forcibly bury the living wife with the departed hufband. The fifth act begins with the death fong of Moina, which the returning bards rehearse. From them, Carril, who had all this time been abfent, learns the fate of Moina, and cafts himself in despair from a rock.

The third of thefe dramas is entitled Starno. He is not, how ever, the leading character. The diftrefs of Daura, his daughter, and of her lover, Kelric, are brought nearer to our feelings than that of this fuperftitious ftern chieftain, who having, before a battle, vowed to Hefus, his nobleft captive, facrifices the beloved of Daura in the holy grove.-The maid then ftabs herself.

From these extracts the reader will be enabled to form a judgment of the poetry. The fubjects it is not fo easy to decide upon, as it does not readily appear what they were intended for. Gray's defcent of Odin is an imitation, and in part, a tranflation of the Vegtams Quitha of the Edda. But Dr. Sayers's Sketches having no originals to refer to, cannot be termed imitations or tranflations, at the fame time the attempt

to write in the ancient manner, and the mixture of antique and modern ideas will fcarcely allow them that merit which diftinguishes originality, in the true fignification of the word. However, thefe Sketches undoubtedly have confiderable merit, and many forcible images and poetic lines occur.-But we imagine that it would be an Herculean tafk to endeavour to introduce the Gothic mythology-nor is it, perhaps, poffible for an author to write with the fame degree of fpirit and intereft when he alludes to learned fictions, as he would, if he fuffered his imagination to portray the tales which he lifped at fchool. A quick feeling of the fublime and beautiful, rather than the cold head of inveftigation, appears to be the chief requifite of a poet.

ART. XIV. Mifcellaneous Poems. By the Reverend Luke Booker, Minifter of St. Edmund's, Dudley, Worcestershire. Svo. 167 pages. Price 5s. Rivingtons. 1790.

THE Highlanders, the first poem in this collection, was published before the commencement of our labours, and, as it then received, as the author informs us, an honourable wreath, we fhall pass it over without hedding any mildew on its blooming honours. The rest of the volume now publifhed, for the firft time, confifts of detached pieces, and the firft part (Morning) of a defcriptive poem, the conclufion of which (Noon and Evening the author intends to finifh, if it is called for by a difcerning public.'

We thall fubjoin one of the mifcellaneous pieces to enable our leaders to judge of the author's manner of writing: to us it appeared a laboured attempt at elegance, which feldom rifes to prettiness, and often finks into affectation. A dull kind of uniformity, which hangs like a fog over thefe poems, communicates its languid influence to the reader, who will not find. any thing in the cold trite fentiments they contain, to roufe him out of his ftupor. P. 37

Ode on a diftant View of Nottingham after a long abfence.

Scene of my birth and early days!
Where many a varied blifs I've known,

As thee I view fond mem'ry ftrays

To moments pafs'd near thee alone;

All other fcenes away retire,

Like the fall'n-meteor's lambent fire,

And leave the mind unoccupied and free,

Poffefs'd and fill'd alone, my native town! with thee.

Much

Much have I lov'd, and laugh'd, and wept
In the fair fcenes which round thee fmi e;
Unpain'd by manhood's cares, have flept,
And undisturb'd by mental guile,

In youthful fport and frolic gay,
Life's tranfient morning pafs'd away,
Some truant hours produc'd their after pain;

But fchool dominion o'er, young pleafure fimil'd again.
Thus checquer'd is our iper age

By forrow's oft fucceeding joy;
But new-born bleffings foon afluage

The griefs that form'd the late alloy.—

This has my changeful fortune been

While far from thee, my natal scene!

Doom'd to retirement, or life's bufy round,

Alternate grief and joy, time's fleeting hours I've found.

Long may the art's effulgent ftar

The place diftinguish of my birth!

Long may'it thou flourish, fam'd afar

FOR FREEDOM, TRUTH, AND MANLY WORTH

Long may the labours of the loom

Thy fons defend from want and gloom,

Bleffing thy peopled fcene with peace and wealth!

And may thy daughters fair, long bloom in rofeate health

With thefe, thy nymphs of loveliest mien,

Happy have pafs'd the light-wing'd hours,

In park, or plain, or meadows green,

'Mid Sneinton's rocks, or Colwick's bow'rs!*

Oh! grant me thus again to rove,

Kind heav'n! each feene, each field, and grove;
Or fray emblufh'd with evening's crimfon beam,

Where Trent, in placid mood, rolls by his rev'rend fream.

Like that fair ftream, when, thro' the meads,

His filver current, foft and flow,

With fweetly-varying courfe he leads,

May all my future moments flow:

May no difafl'rous wintry form

With forrow fwell, with rage deform:

But, as his waves pafs fmoothly to the fea,
So may life's current glide to blefs'd eternity!

ART. XV. Advice to the Future Laureat: an Ode. By Peter Pindar, Efq. 4to. 18 p. Price 1s. 6d. Kearfley. 1790. THE treat which is here provided by our poetical Boniface, confifts of two courfes; and of these the bill of fare is as follows:

*Delightful feenès round Nottingham.
F 3

ARGUMENT

ARGUMENT.-The Poet expreffeth wonderful curiofity for knowing the future laureat-reporteth the candidates for the fublime office of poetical trumpeter-recommendeth to his mufe the praises of economy, poultry, cow-pens, pigs, dunghills, &c.advifeth the mention of his prefent money-loving majesty of Naples, alfo of the great people of Germany.-Peter gently criticifeth poor Thomas, and uttereth ftrange things of courts-he exclaimeth fuddenly, and boafleth of his purity-he returneth fweetly to the unknown laureat, afketh him pertinent questions, and informeth him what a laureat fhould refemble.

Part II.-The poet feeleth a most uncommon metamorphofe -breaketh out into a kind of poetical delirium, talketh of courtreformation, the arts and fciences; and feemeth to continue mad to the end of the chapter.'

Several of these dishes being well feafoned, thofe for whom they are intended may poffibly not diflike to tafte of their contents, as a whet in the interim previous to their meal,

O D E.

O thou, whate'er thy name, thy trade, thy art,
Who from obfcurity art doom'd to ftart,
Call'd by the royal mandate, to proclaim

To diant realms a monarch's feeble fame-
For fame of kings, like cripples in the gout,
Demands a crutch to move about-

Whoe'er thou art, that winn'ft the envied prife,
O, if for royal fimile thy bofom fighs,

Of pig-economy exalt the praife;

O flatter fheep and bullocks in thy lays!
To faving wifdom boldly ftrike the firings,
And justify the grazier-trade in kings.

pens;

Defcant on ducks, and geefe, and cocks, and hens,
Haystacks, and dairies, cowhouses, and
Defcant on dunghills, ev'ry fort of kine;
And on the pretty article of fwine;
Inform us, without lofs, to twig

The ftomach of a feeding calf, or cow;
And tell us, economic, how

To fteal a dinner from a fatt'ning pig;
And, bard, to make us ftill more bleft, declare
How hogs and bullocks may grow fat on air.
Sing how the king of Naples fells his fifh,
And from his ftomach cribs the daintieft dish;
Sing, to his fubjects how he fells his game,
So fierce for dying rich the monarch's flame;
Sing of th' economy of German quality;
Emp'rors, electors, dead to hofpitality;

Margraves; and miferable dukes,

Who fqueeze their fubjects, and who ftarve their cooks :-
Such be the burthen of thy birth-day fong,

And lo, our court will liften all day long.

Tom

Tom prov'd unequal to the laureat's place;
He warbled with an attic grace:

The language was not understood at court,
Where bow and curt'fy, grin and fhrug, refort;
Sorrow for ficknefs, joy for health, fo civil,
And loves that with each other to the devil!
Tom was a fcholar-lucklefs wight!

Lodg'd with old manners in a mufty college;
He knew not that a palace hated knowledge,
And deem'd it pedantry to fpell and write.
Tom heard of royal libraries, indeed,
And, weakly, fancied that the books were read.
He knew not that an author's fenfe

Was, at a palace, not worth finding;
That what to notice gave a book pretence,
Was folely paper, print, and binding!
Some folks had never known, with all their wit,
Old Pindar's name, nor occupation,

Had not I started forth-a lucky hit,

And proved my felf the Theban bard's relation.
The names of Drummond, Boldero, and Hoare;
Though ftranger's to Apollo's tuneful ear,
Are difcords that the palace-folks adore,
Sweet as fincerity, as honour dear!

The name of Homer, none are found to know it,
So much the banker foars beyond the poet;

For courts prefer, fo claffically weak,

A guinea's mufic to the noife of Greek:
Menin aeide Thea, empty founds,

How mean to " Pay the bearer fifty pounds!"

No

ART. XVI. The Theatre: A didactic Effay. Including an Idea of the Character of fane Shore, as performed by a young Lady, in a private Play, &c. &c. By Samuel Whyte. 8vo. 40 p. Dublin, White. 1790.

As we have reafon to think that the performance of private plays tends to render young people romantic, if they do not, by inflaming their paffions, injure their morals, we are forry to find that they have been countenanced by people of quality, both in this and a neighbouring kingdom.

This poem is an eulogium on a young lady, who condefcended, without being impelled by neceffity, to exhibit her perfon for the amufement of her friends: how confiftent fuch conduct is with female delicacy, not to mention modefty, we fhall not pretend to determine. However, this little poem contains fome juft remarks, relative to acting in general, written in a forcible ftyle.