248

wit will never pafs muftet with fober people, unless it be founded on truth.

The difcourfes treat of other Celts befides thofe in the fhape of a bull; confequently the facrificial and mechanical Celts were diftinctly mentioned: therefore, when the Reviewer was pleafed to fay, the following Celts were transferred from facrificial to mechanical purposes; he thould have explained my affertion, and not have confounded one Celt with another.

Indeed! did Conflantius Chlorus die to years after Severus Alexander, who is put before him? If he will look into Borlafe, p. 264, he will find the fame miftake from whence I copied mine.

I can only fatisfy my friends with protesting, that Dr. Stukeley's ftyle and fentiments have been the furtheft from my thoughts. He is an antiquary, however great his reading may have been, in whom I do not, or ever did, hold much faith. But peace to his afhes!

The word axe occurs in p. 19, and in three other places in p. 28. When it was fpelt ax, it was a typographical error. But perhaps this was the reafon why the critic fancied I affected writing like Dr. Stukeley, who, in his Itin. Curiof. frequently affects to fpell 'little' tl, middle' middl, &c.; but which, I believe, as may be feen of the Doctor's latter works, he foon repented of.

The beft authors have cited Greek writers in Latin.

Il fait marcher les Turcs au nom de
Sababorb.
See Voltaire.

The word fabaoth here does not imply the bofts themfelves. This writer, if I have made a mistake, is alfo wrong. The Turks have their Sabaoth from the fame root as the Perfians; but if the reviewer wishes to know who is the God of the Perfians, let him confult the meaning of the words Mithri, Mithir, and Mether. Scaliger and Bochart will fet him right. But furely, as the Squire in the Vicar of Wakefield fays to Mofes, "It is very hard that I fhould furnish him with argument and intellects too."

The affected magiferial conclufion of the review is made up from the termi. nation of my argument, and completes the modern flyle of critics.

I fhall now take my leave, Mr. Ur. ban, with obferving, that I am heartily forry my fmall brochure has excited the abute and avowed enmity of any one; for most affuredly inimical muft the review have been intended which was mpofed on your known candour.

By the feature of this review it seems to have originated in a certain circle, that I have no difficulty to trace out; and I have no doubt but the zeal of my friends (for I am not wanting of friends in that circle) will, fome day or other, acquaint me with the fource of this unfair enquiry into the argmuent of my, Difcourfes.

Whenever I again make my appearance before the awful tribunal of this anonymous writer, I truft that he will not fuffer his good fenfe to be perverted at my expence by a freer, a pun, a laugh, or a prejudiced reflection from idle men, who hate thofe who are more induftrious than themselves, and by whom he may chance to hear my name mentioned; let him not think it beneath his cenforious dignity to enquire into my literary pretenfions himself. My labours, fuch as they are, and which have been attended with no fmall expence and affiduity, will then affert their bonourable and fair privileges; for be affured, Mr. Urban, although I deteft, as every one fhould, the bafe exaggeration of all human imperfection, fo I hold in equal abhorrence all falfe pretenfion and all impudent artifice to glofs over presuming ignorance. Thus, whether my bull be baited fairly or unfairly, whether reviewers be inclined to favour or condemn; know, 'Mr. Urban, that, conscious of not withing to receive more public favour than fhould ever be beftowed on careful and fober industry, fo I hope I may be permitted to conclude with a citation from Shakspeare, who, in a difpute of two perhaps as great men as the reviewer and your humble fervant, has introduced thefe lines:

"There is no terror, Critic, in your

"FI am arm'd fo ftrong in honefty, "That they pafs by me as the idle wind, "Which I respect not."

Yours, &c. J. DOUGLAS. Chidingfold, March 17, 1786. P.S. In the review of Mr. P's "Scotifh "Poems," p. 148, a little art was used to apply that gentleman's expreffion on the inftrument called celt to my Differtations; whereas Mr. P. meant the great abfurdity of antiquaries, who have called fome kind of celts battle-axes; but this muft allow me to fay, that his exprefcan never be laid to my charge. Mr. P. fion of the celts being called battle-axes ought not to pass for a general rule among antiquaiies. J. D. Threats, ditto. EPITAPH

Caffius in the original.

T

BY DR. JOHNSON.

HE hand of him here torpid lies, That drew th' effential form of grace; Here clos'd in death th' attractive eyes,

That faw the manners in the face.

To VALGIUS.

From HORACE, Book 11. Ode. II.

By ANNA SEWARD.

OT ceafelefs falls the heavy thower,

Fierce forms do not for ever bend

Gargania's vaft and labouring oak; Nor from the afh its foilage rend

249

With ruthless whirl, and widowing stroke; But, Valgius, thou, with grief's eternal lays, Mourneft thy vanish'd hopes in Myftes' fhorten'd days.

When Vefper trembles in the weft,,
Or flies before the rapid fun,
Rife the lone forrows of thy breaft.
Not thus did aged Neftor fhun,
Confoling trains, nor always fought the tomb,
Where funk his filial hopes in life, and
glory's bloom.

Not thus, the lovely Troilus flain,
His parents wept the princely boy;
Nor his fair fifters mourn'd in vain
The blafted flower of finking Troy.
Then cease thy fond complaints

fame,

Auguftus

The new Cefarian wreaths let thy lov'd voice proclaim!

So fhall the listening world be told,

Medus*, and froze Niphates, guide (With all their mighty realms controul'd) Their late proud waves in narrower tide; That in fcant space their steeds the Scythians rein, [ordain !

Nor dare trangrefs the bounds our victor arms HORACE, Book II. Ode XVI. IMITATED. "Otium divos," &c.

To SIR JOHN ELIOT, Bart.
OSS'D on the gulph of broad Biscay,
Forgets the mariner to pray,

For fweet tranquillity to figh,
When veil'd in fome feverer night,
The wayward moon denies her light,
And not a ftar illumes the sky?

'Midft fcenes of death, the Turkish creed
Impels its votaries to bleed,

Deathlefs tranquillity their prize:
By fuch tranquillity beguil'd,
The Indians fcream their orgies wild,

And Nature's luxuries defpife.

The ftar of rank, nor diamonds blaze,
Nor the white wand importance sways,

Can filence Confcience' bold reproof:
For yonder comes her locuft fhower,
On vain magnificence to lour,

And hover round the gilded roof.
He, from whofe fnug paternal board,
The plate, his grandfire could afford,
No fashion urges to expel,

From avarice free, from wild affright,
Who lays him down, to flumbers light,
'Tis his to live, on little, well..

In Fortune's momentary fight,

Nor do continual tempefts pour

On the vex'd Cafpian's billowy fea;

Nor yet the ice in filent horror ftands,

Thro' all the rolling months, on cold Ar

menia's lands.

GENT. MAG. March, 1786.

Why thift our climates with the wind? Can he who files his native land, Himself, when he forfakes its ftrand, That worst affociare, leave behind? #Rivers in Arinenia.

In

250

In vain, we fcud before the gale,
See carking care the deck affail,

And float around the veffel's keel:
In vain, in vain, we spur the feed,
Swift as the whirlwind fweeps the mead,
She fcours behind the horse's heel.
The mind, which prefent joys inform,
Difdains to meet the coming ftorm;

Though in life's cup fome bitters flow, Yet thefe it tempers with a smile, And no wild images beguile,

Of perfect happiness below.

In youth's warm blood, too harsh a doom, Sends Philips to his early tomb,

To Swift an age of woe fapplies.

In human chance, a flender plea,
Fate grants, perhaps, the years to me,
The rigid power to you denies.
At your command, in many a mead,
Full many a lowing herd fhall feed,

And foals, to grace your harness, neigh;
Whate'er refinements Grecia knew,
Or foft Italian pencils drew,

Your tafte for ornament difplay. On me, Sir John, fhould fate entail Aught of that spirit to inhale,

She breath'd on bards of former days;

Let her, as permanently kind,
Give nerve to my afpiring mind,

To fnatch at more than vulgar bays.
Lambeth.
T. PERCY.

Thou! who, by chance or tender pity led,

Shalt trace the windings of the fatal strand, O bear his body to fome neighbouring mead, Wash'd from the weeds and the defiling fand.

Well do his virtues afk the pious rite,

Well may his afhes find a peaceful refl; For friendly duties were his chief delight, And kind compaffion dwelt within his breast: Yet hear the fequel of my tragic tale,

Nor grudge the tribute of a tender figh; Thistheme o'er hardest bosoms might prevail, And force a tear e'en from the favage eye. Two tender maidens left their mother's arms; Ah! how unconscious of the impending doom!

They fell in beauty's yet unripen'd charms : So rofes wither in their opening bloom. Anguish fat heavy on the father's face,

While many a pang each past endearment

Endur'd the

clime?

[cares.

Ah! what the meed of all those busy That claim'd the vigour of thy manly prime? Yet HOPE, gay charmer of the burden'd heart,

Would now anticipate the calm retreat, Where Love and Friendship might their blifs [meet.

impart.

Where Virtue, Science, and the Mufe,should And now would foothe thee with the pleaf

ing view

man!

And crown thy

gale.

T.

Hunc fitim fævam celera domare,
Hoc (puella abfente) leva dolens cor-
Heu mihi curæ Cereale-Donum
Ter medicamen !

Euge!-rides! ut trepidatque fumat
Aureum Nectar, fluvilique ritu
Ut pice aftuto ruit ore fummo
Spumeus obbæ !

Cernis! ut vitio nitet invidendo
Lucidus liquor! comes it facetus
Cui jocus, quocum Venus, et Cupido,
Spicula tingunt.

Hunc memor charæ cyathum corono
Virginis!(curæ medicina fuavis!)
Hinc mihi fomni-ah quoque fuaviora
Somnia fomni!

O dapes quæ lætitiamque præbet
Qmnibus verò veneranda Diva!
Tu mihi das alma Ceres amanti
Dulce levamen !-
Hos bibens fuccos generofiores
Iralis teftis nihil invidebo

Hos bibens fuccos neque Gallicanas
Laudibus uvæ!-

Cum Johannenfi latitans fuili,
Grunnio, et fcribo fitiente labro-

Hos bibam füccos, et amica Mufis

Addreffed to a Lady who praises every body. Imitated from the French.

100 fond of fame, too prone to praise,
Maria, liften to my lays:
Inftruction forms the moral tale,
And lurks beneath the fimple veil.

It happen'd once that o'er the plain
A lion held his gentle reign,
Full smoothly pafs'd his peaceful days,
For all his pleafure was to praife:
His courtiers, whether low or high,
The monarch view'd with equal eye,
Honest or wicked, great or fmall,
Their fmiling fov'reigu prais'd them-all:
And ev'ry monster of the wood
Was wondrous wife and wondrous good.
As once he fray'd the foreft round,
It chanc'd an Elephant he found:
A folitary fage was he,

Vers'd in thy lore, Philofophy;
Though rude and fightless to the view,
Much had he seen, and much he knew ;
But, tir'd with folly's idle sports,
The farce of fate, the noife of courts,

+Anglice, Bottled Ale,

Wifely he gave his evening's clofe
To peace, to learning and repofe.

Such wisdom in fo rude a place,
And talents form'd a court to grace,
To find in woods and wilds retir'd,
Th' enraptur'd monarch much admir'd ;'
And many a praifeful promife made,
To lure them from retirement's fhade.
Full fain to courts, life's ampler stage,
Would draw the folitary fage.
'Ne'er be it faid,' with honeft pride
The fage philofopher replied,

251

That I forfook my peaceful cell,
With you and in your court to dwell,
And, fed with idle flattery, there
Your nods, your fmiles and praifes fhare,
With villains, fycophants, and flaves,
With apes and monkeys, fools and knaves,

Fair maid, 'twere needlefs to explain
To fenfe like yours the fabling ftrain;
Then greet no more, to forms a flave,
Fair virtue as you greet a knave;
Not that I with you, madly bold,
To fally forth, like knights of old,
And fierce and open war to wage
With all the vices of our age;
Nor would, to virtue's caufe untrue,
Forbid to praife where praife is due;
But oh, I charge you, praise not them,
Whom confcience teaches to condemn.
Be cautious then; for lady, know
Offended virtue holds her foe,
Both him that takes, and him that pays
The words of prostituted praife.

THE BEGGAR-WOMAN.
AUGHTER of Penury, this way direct
Tay trembling step; bland Charity

extends

Her ready hand to eafe

Thy ponderous load of woe. Full well thy blood-stain'd eye, thy meagre cheek,

Where pinching hunger pines, thy palfied limbs,

Atteft that fimple truth
Speaks in thy plaintive tale.

O garb unfeemly for a day fo rude!
No covering thields thy head from fuking
fnows,

Thy tatter'd cloak invites
The frolick of wild winds.

The pointed flint, the jagged ice, affault
Thy naked feet, ah naked feet that tread
Nor Pleafure's flowery path,
Nor fink in Luxury's down I
Thy delicacy tyrant Want expell'd;
Coy modely expir'd, when first thy voice
In firmer tone recall'd

The haftening paffenger.

Ye fair, who riot in indulgence! cherish

Pity's foft tear, that starts to fee this child
Of mifery implore
Her fex's fifter aid.

SYMPATHETICUS.

Оп

252

throng,

Or own'd the energy of magic fong;
When our proud foes in triple rage appear--
The hoftile leaders even now draw near;
Let thy strong arm affert its powerful fway,
And drive thefe monfters from the face of
day."

To arms the maid- -nor ftood to make
reply,

Indignant flashes fparkled in her eye.
The fhield of truth in her left hand fhe wore ;
And, in her right, the fword of justice bore.
The direful gis, wherefoe'er the turn'd,
Glar'd round terrific, and destructive burn'd.
In fiery circles wav'd the flaming blade;
The adverfe faction, at the fight difmay'd,
Fled to the manfions of th' infernal gods;
And peaceful left the Mufes' bleft abodes.
Tidefwell, March 11, 1786. W. N.

CANZONE,

ON THE RECOVERY OF A WIFE AFTER LYING-IN.

Hence anxious doubt and gloomy care ! No longer my poor bofom tear. Hence! to your murky cells, away! Bright joy and love fhall rule to day. No longer Maia, my loved wife, Hangs in fufpençe, 'tween death and life; No more the's rack'd with death-like pain ; No more the fever burns her brain; No more the fleepless wastes the night Or only fleeps to wake with fright;

*Heron denies fublimity to be found in the poetry and language of the Scriptures.

No more my mind is fill'd with fears;
No more my eyes bedimm'd with tears.
Once more the to the church repairs,
To pour her foul in thanks and prayers.
Woodbridge.

J. B.

A SON G.

NDERNEATH this shady tree,

UNDH

Here we fafe may reft a while; Come, my fair-one, fit by me! Converse fweet will time beguile. Come then, let us moralize, As the fhort-liv'd fhadow flies: Life thus quickly fleets away: Let us then enjoy to-day! See yon rye- field's wavy motion,

As the breezes o'er it fweep;
Like the furface of the ocean,

When no ftorm embroils the deep.
O'er its bofom as they rove,
Wantón breezes feem in love.
Like the breeze, life fleets away:
Let us them enjoy to-day!
See the grey-pease' purple bloom,
Far more pleafing to the eye,
Than whate'er the Tyrian loom
Wove, tho' dipt in richest dye.
Soon thofe beauteous tints will fade,
Soon thofe bloffoms all be dead.
Life thus quickly, fades away;
Let us then enjoy to-day.
Woodbridge.

J. B.

EXTRACTS