A familiar Epifle from a Cat at the Qu-n's P-1-ce, to Edmund Burke, Efq. on his Motion for the better Regulation of his Majefty's Civil Eftablishment, &c. 4to. 15. 6d. Kearfly. It is a common proverbial saying that, a cat may look at a king, which we by no means with to difpute the truth of; but it does not follow, that because the may look at, fhe has therefore a right to abuse him, which feems to be the defign of this very indifferent performance, which has nothing to recommend it but a great quantity of virulence and fcurrility in most intolerable metre, as the reader will fee by the few following lines, where, speaking of the American war, pufs purs thus: it makes one quite frantie fee; To think how things go t'other fide the Atlantic! I now feel for my country; and when I compare The remark in the last line is certainly a very true one, though neither fagacious nor poetical. The event of this poem may be much more eafily forefeen; for, unlike the American war, it will do nobody any harm, will very foon be at an end, and, in a few days, be totally forgotten. The Library. A Poem. 4to. 25. Dodfley. A vein of good fenfe and philofophical reflection runs through this little performance, which diftinguishes it from most modern poems, though the fubject is not fufficiently interesting to re commend commend it to general attention. The rhymes are correct, and the verfification smooth and harmonious. The author ranges his books scientifically, and carries us through natural philofophy, phyfic, romance, hiftory, &c-What he fays of phyfical writers is not lefs true than fevere; their aim, fays he, is glorious. But man, who knows no good unmix'd and pure, Their pen relentless kills through future times.' These lines are manly, nervous, and poetical. We were still more pleased with the following description of romance, which is full of fancy and fpirit. Hence, ye prophane! I feel a former dread, Hark! hollow blasts through empty courts refound, Ah! happy he who thus in magic themes, But loft, for ever loft, to me thefe joys, Too Too dearly bought, maturer Judgment calls And all my knights, blue, green, and yellow, dead; The reader will meet with many other paffages in this poem that will give him pleasure in the perufal. It is obfervable, that the author in his account of all the numerous volumes in every science, has never characterised or entered into the merits of any particular writer in either of them, though he had fo fair an opportunity, from the nature of his fubject: this, however, for reafons best known to himself, he has ftudiously avoided. The Brothers, an Eclogue. By the Hon. Charles John Fielding. 4to. 15. Walter. At a time when the nobility of this kingdom feem not over anxious of obtaining any character in the world of letters, and are very feldom guilty of publication, we are glad, for the credit of the nation, to fee a promising young man of rank step forth as a volunteer in the fervice, and make, confidering his youth and inexperience, a figure fo refpectable. The little poem before us, written by the honourable Mr. Charles John Fielding, younger fon to the earl of Denbigh, though not a first rate performance, is by no means deftitute of poetical merit. It is infcribed to his elder brother, lord viscount Fielding, and recites a converfation that paffed between them on their feveral deftinations in life, the elder in the military line, the younger (our author) deftined probably for the church, and fond of rural amufements. They rally each other on their different taste and difpofitions: Damon is the contemplative youth, and Dorylas the foldier, who thus laughs at the philofopher's tranquillity. Indulge thy dream! in indolence reclin❜d, Wooe the foft waving of the western wind! To moralizing brooks incline thine ear! Pipe thy fweet lays to rocks that cannot hear !' Dream on!-Be mine with martial rage to glow ! To hurl defiance on the trembling foe! Be mine with this good faulchion to engage, "Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage." To this Damon replies : Hence to the war! Indulge thy favage ear With With eager joy drink in the widow's cry! Hark! hark!"My fon! my murder'd fon!" fhe calls, My blooming hero fhall not die," (fhe cries) That heaves her heart with madnefs, footh thy own.' Thefe lines, though the fentiments are common and familiar, are fmooth and harmonious. The expreffion to run before a look, and to drink in the widow's cry, with a few others to be met with in this poem, we could wish to fee expunged. A firft essay, however, fhould be always treated with indulgence; and to exercife the feverity of criticifm on the efforts of fo young a mufe as Mr. Fielding's, would be inhumanity. From this fpecimen of our honourable writer's genius and abilities, we have reason to hope that he will hereafter produce fomething well deferving of the public approbation. It would be injuftice not to add, that the tenderness and fraternal affection running through this poem, the indisputable marks of a good and well-difpofed mind, muft palliate its defects, and give a luftre to its beauties, in the opinion of every feeling and intelligent reader. Poems for the Vafe at Bath Eafton, &c. By a Derbyshire Highlander. 4to. 25. 6d. Rivington. Thefe poems were written, as we are informed in the titlepage, for the vale at lady Miller's. The production, we suppose, of fome unfuccefsful candidate for the myrtle wreath, who has taken this method of arraigning the tafe of the Bath Eaton judges, and made his appeal to the public, who, we are afraid, will confirm their decree, and once more confign his verfes to oblivion. They feem to be the hafty effufion of a cold and incorrect writer, who throws out his undigested thoughts on any fubject, without judgment or felection, and clothes them in very flovenly and profaic numbers. In the verfes on speculation, the theme given out at Bath Eafton, in 1779, and which our author abfurdly calls an epigram (of ten pages), he gives his readers this agreeable promife: Hail fpeculation! hail thou theme fublime, Where flow-placed hebetude and dullnefs dwell.' From thefe habitations of hebetude and dullness we cannot expect much entertainment, and are not therefore furprifed to meet, a little farther on, with the following fpecimen of our author's wit and humour: Make way the lawyer comes with formal face! And nurture ftrife, and fpeculate for spoil. This is equalled, if not excelled, by his description of the doctor : Look here again! the doctor now appears, Burn first his wig-this robs him of his ftrength; Shave close this puffing, peruke-pated knave; And, to a fcruple, pour them down his throat. The reft of the poems are of a piece with this: the author talks of ycfty tides, abluent waves, daily-dappled ground, dædal scenes, fugared notes, rubified blood, &c. &c. &c. We will not therefore trouble our readers with any more quotations; but will conclude with our author's own opinion of this work, in a letter to his bookfeller, Mr. Roome of Derby, prefixed to the poems:- Ι blush exceedingly (fays he) at the very thought of your ushering into a world, that has now acquired the most correct and just tafte for every thing that is elegant in the arts and fciences, a parcel of rhimes which are very much below mediocrity.' With this opinion of E. B. L. the Derbyshire Highlander, who must certainly best know the merit of his own works, we entirely coincide, and hope that no future vafes at Bath, or elsewhere, may lead him into the like temptation, or induce him to fend any more works to Mr. Roome, either as a substratum for applepies, or for a facrifice to Sterquilinus, or Cloacina.', An Efay on Prejudice; a Poetical Epifle to the Hon. C, J. Fox. 4to. IS. Faulder. Prejudice, in the proper fignification of the word, undoubtedly means a hafty determination in any point, without previous ex + See the prefatory letter to Mr. Roome. amination |