And t'other some lines he had made on a straw,
Shewing how he had found it, and what it was for,'

or such a line as this;

For either Jove he is terribly strong.' p.154.

Apollo resolves on a visit to this nether world, to give our modern poets a lesson or two;'

And as nothing's here done now-a-days without eating,

Tries what kind of a set he can muster worth treating.'

The descent of the God is first noticed, and his person is thus de. scribed:

Imagine however, if shape there must be,

A figure sublim'd above mortal degree,

His limbs the perfection of elegant strength,-
A fine flowing roundness inclining to length,-
A back dropping in,-an expansion of chest,

(For the God, you'll observe, like his statues was drest)
His throat like a pillar for smoothness and grace,
His curls in a cluster,--and then such a face,
As mark'd him at once the true offspring of Jove,
The brow all of wisdom, and lips all of love;
For though he was blooming, and oval of cheek,
And youth down his shoulders went smoothing and sleek,
Yet his look with the reach of past ages was wise,
And the soul of eternity thought through his eyes.'
Now commences the ludicrous part of the exhibition:

The God then no sooner had taken the chair

And rung for the landlord to order the fare,'

than Arnold, Reynolds, Dibdin, Cherry, Cobb, and Diamond rush in, but are mistaken by Apollo for the waiters; next Spencer, Rogers, and Montgomery present themselves: but they are only invited to tea, and poor Crabbe is consigned to a chair in the kitchen. Mr. Hayley is so coldly received, that he chooses to be off; Mr. Gifford is better treated, but with such repulsive strictures that he is glad to leave the room: Mr. Walter Scott is bidden to sit down; yet the god is not very gracious; and Mr. S. must be not a little mortified to see a marked preference given to Campbell. To Moore, the deity offers his hand, and, while he excuses certain amatory effusions of this lyric bard, directs him in future to moralize his

song:

And never should poet, so gifted and rare,
Pollute the bright Eden Jove gives to his care,
But love the fair Virtue, for whom it is given,
And keep the spot pure for the visits of heaven.'

Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge, with Croker and Peter
Pindar, introduce themselves to the god: but, among all the crowd
of modern poets, four only obtain the laurel, and seats at the board:
But Phoebus no sooner had gain'd his good ends,
Than he put off his terrors, and rais'd up his friends,
Who stood for a moment, entranc'd to behold
The glories subside and the dim-rolling gold,

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And

And listen to sounds, that with ecstacy burning
Seem'd dying far upward, like heaven returning.
Then Come,' cried the God in his elegant mirth,
Let us make us a heav'n of our own upon earth,
And wake with the lips, that we dip in our bowls,
That divinest of music,-congenial souls.'
So saying, he led through the dining-room door,
And seating the poets, cried Laurels for four !'
No sooner demanded, than lo! they were there,
And each of the bards had a wreath in his hair.
Tom Campbell's with willow and poplar was twin'd,
And Southey's with mountain-ash pluck'd in the wind,
And Scott's with a heath from his old garden stores,
And with vine leaves and Jump-up-and-kiss-me*,
Then Apollo put his on, that sparkled with beams,
And rich rose the feast as an epicure's dreams, -
Not epicure civic, or grossly inclin'd,

Tom Moore's..

But such as a poet might dream ere he din'd;
For the god had no sooner determin'd the fare,
Than it turn'd to whatever was racy and rare:
The fish and the flesh, for example, were done,
On account of their fineness, in flame from the sun;
The wines were all nectar of different smack,
To which Muskat was nothing, nor Virginis Lac,
No, nor Lachryma Christi, though clearly divine,
Nor Montepulciano, though King of all Wine.
Then as for the fruits, you might garden for ages,
Before you could raise me such apples and gages;
And all on the table no sooner were spread,

Than their cheeks next the god blush'd a beautiful red.
'Twas magic, in short, and deliciousness all ;-
The very men-servants grew handsome and tall,
To velvet-hung ivory the furniture turn'd,
The service with opal and adamant burn'd,
Each candlestick chang'd to a pillar of gold,
While a bundle of beams took the place of the mould,
The decanters and glasses pure diamond became,
And the corkscrew ran solidly round into flame.
In a word, so completely forestall'd were the wishes,
Ev'n harmony struck from the noise of the dishes.

It can't be suppos'd I should think of repeating
The fancies that flow'd at this laureat meeting;
I haven't the brains, and besides, was not there;
But the wit may be easily guess'd, by the chair:
Suffice it to say, it was keen as could be,
Though it soften'd to prettiness rather at tea.'
After having toasted our old poets, the party breaks up:
Thus chatting and singing they sat till eleven,
When Phoebus shook hands, and departed for heaven;

* A provincial name for Heart's-ease.

For poets,' he said, who would cherish their powers,
And hop'd to be deathless, must keep to good hours.'
So off he betook him the way that he came,
And shot up the north, like an arrow of flame;
For the Bear was his inn; and the comet, they say,
Was his Tandem in waiting to fetch him

away.

From the portions of this poem which are here given, the reader will perce've that it is full of most playful imagination; and the notes, which occupy the bulk of the volume, contain a variety of strictures which may be read with profit by those persons who are the subjects of them. They are, however, often too keen to be pleasant: but the most satirical strokes of a man of genius and discernment are of real value, and ought not to be contemptuously scouted. Mr. Hunt's notes may be considered as lectures for the modern school of poetry.

The annexed translations have not equal merit with the orignal

poem.

Art. 18. The Vale of Guasco; or the Maid with seven Lovers. A Romance in Verse, in seven Cantos. 8vo. pp. 320. 12s. 6d. Boards. J. J. Stockdale. 1813.

Though the present age be not so enlightened as some individuals are inclined to suppose, it has less taste for extravagant and improbable fictions than our forefathers manifested: so that romances, properly so called, are rather tolerated than relished. The nursery is not supplied with the trash which formerly found its way into it; and, when we arrive at manhood, we look for something better than fables which outrage common sense and could never have been realized in the history of man. When a tissue of impossibilities is formed into a narrative, the reader, however he may applaud the ingenuity of the poet, cannot be pleased with so gross an attempt to impose on his credulity, and replies in the language of Horace, Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi. With feelings of this kind, we worked our way through the Vale of Guasco, and experienced little pleasure in the beginning, the middle, or the end of our journey. We followed the hero Courtenay from the banks of the Medway to the provinces of Chili and Peru; we were long kept in suspence respecting the Maid with seven Lovers; and it was not till the sixth canto, (p. 223.) when Courtenay falls in love with Recloma, and thus makes her a maid with eight Lovers, that we understood to what circumstance this part of the title referred.

Like the poem intitled "The Missionary," (see our Review for April last,) a considerable portion of this Romance is borrowed from the history which constituted the subject of Ercilla's Spanish poem, the Araucana, and related the defeat of the Spaniards by the Chilians: but it surpasses all belief that an English emigrant (Courtenay), after a series of very improbable adventures, should not only obtain a settlement and family-connections among the Chilians, but be their General, and lead them to take vengeance on the Spaniards for their bloody outrages. The Romance ought to have been intitled Courtenay, since he is the leading and most interesting character; and Recloma,

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the

the maid with seven lovers, only comes in as an episode. We cannot spare time to follow him through his visions and adventures; nor shall we otherwise criticize the poetry in which his fictitious tale is told, than by observing that, if it be in general easy, and in some places forcible, it contains many defective rhymes. In the sixth canto, Courtenay, emerging from his retreat in the Chilian wilds, recognizes Recloma, the Chilian fair beloved of old,' a mourner in a funeral procession. Let the poet recount this part of his romantic tale :

With cautious step, he reach'd a village near,

And learn'd what honour'd load had graced the bier ;
A reverend chief, whose sons had fill'd the tomb,
Before their aged father met his doom.

A daughter still remain'd, that weeping fair,
Now left forlorn, without a parent's care:
And, tho' endow'd with Nature's various charms,
To wake, in youthful bosoms, soft alarms;
Yet, still pursued by some peculiar fate,
Her beauty was the cause of dread and hate
To every sire and matron for their son,
Lest he, by love, a deadly risk should run;
Like others, who had rued their plighted faith,
And felt, unwarn'd, the chilling stroke of death.
Seven youths, before the day of marriage, fell;
More, it was fear'd, the fatal list might swell,
If, like the basilisk, her dangerous eyes

Should make some young predestined wretch their prize.
The oracle was tried, to know the cause
Which seem'd to militate 'gainst nature's laws;
But some astounding change its awful voice
Foretold to follow her connubial choice.

The tale with joy the dauntless Briton heard,

And the deep mysteries of fate revered.

"She's mine," he would have cried; but caution held
What caused his sudden transport unreveal'd.
And now the ghostly band he call'd to mind,
Whom erst he saw careering on the wind,
Around her bower; when to his mental view
The POWER OF DREAMS the airy picture drew.
It shadow'd forth the doom of those who fell,
A black presage, the stoutest hearts to quell !
Others had fled the risk, in time forewarn'd;
But the bold youth the coming danger scorn'd.
Soon had he means devised the fair to find;
For love and holy confidence, combined,
Against all terror steel'd his generous mind:
For some protector of the good, he thought,
Her doom, and his, had to a crisis brought;
And soon resolv'd his passion to declare,
And win her (if he could) his fate to share.
No jealous rival did he fear, to thwart
His title to the lovely orphan's heart.

He pray'd: but she denied, with accents kind,
And warn'd of what the angry gods design'd;
By what, of yore, the hapless youths befel,
Sent to the tomb because they lov'd too well:
But reason was subdued, and forced to yield
To love, the great dictator of the field.
She saw, she loved, and every look belied
Her faint refusal, though her fears denied.
Not long his suit the amorous Briton pressed,
Till she the secret of her soul confessed;
And Hymen soon with soft connubial bands,
In hopes of better fortune join'd their hands."

After the marriage, they are parted: he goes to lead the Chilians to victory over the Spaniards: but, in a subsequent attempt to assuage a mutiny among the Chilians, he is pierced by the brothers of a native whom he had killed; when at this juncture Recloma appears, to stab herself, and to fall on the body of her murdered husband. This is a tragical, but not a satisfying conclusion. When the hero and heroine are dispatched in such a hurry, it seems as if the poet did not know what to do with them. As the lady gives the secondary title to this romance, she should have been sooner introduced, and should have formed a more conspicuous figure on the canvas.

RELIGIOUS.

Art. 19. Christian Ethics; or Discourses on the Beatitudes, with some preliminary and subsequent Discourses. The whole designed to explain, recommend, or enforce the Duties of the Christian Life. By Thomas Wintle, B.D., Rector of Brightwell in Berkshire. 2 Vols. 8vo. pp. 540. 16s. Boards. Longman and Co. Some good reason ought to be assigned for adding to our present enormous heap of printed sermons. Merely the desire of doing good, or the persuasion that professing Christians require to be reminded of their duty, is not an adequate apology for the publication of plain discourses, which, however sensible, abound with explanations and exhortations that have been repeated times out of number. It is a stale and futile plea that the complexion of the times affords great occasion for discourses on the nature and practice of holiness; since, if the people will not read those which at present sollicit, their perusal on every side, it is not very probable that they will be attracted by new assortments of the same kind. Mr. Wintle, aware no doubt that his first reason for sending these sermons to the press would occasion a demur, offers another towards the conclusion of his preface, which is generally admitted to be valid, viz. Novelty. It is possible,' he says, that the systematic. form in which the Beatitudes are here considered, which I conceive to be new, may not only tend to fix the truths and duties more deeply in the minds of ordinary readers, but may recommend the work to the philosopher and man of science, or persons of superior understandings." For ourselves, we are at a loss to see in what consists the novelty of form which these sermons are said to assume. They follow in the order of the texts, as they occur in the fifth chapter of St. Matthew;

and