graceful; might do much good; and should any one find fault with this practice, he must not pretend to the piety of a Christian, he has not the Religion of an Heathen; such an one should remember the conduct, and consider the sentiments, of your brother lapis. "Non hæc humanis opibus, aut Arte magistrâ

Proveniunt ; neque te, Ænea, mea dextera servat : Major agit Deus, atque opera ad majora remittit. Virgil, Æn. xii. 427. "This is no mortal work, no cure of mine, Nor art's effect, but done by hands divine: 'Tis God Æneas to the battle sends,

'Tis God preserves his life for greater ends.'

"Thanks for your advice about what I recommended to your consideration and about my own health. God has been better to me than my apprehensive heart expected. O! that, so long as I have breath, it may be employed to his honour; who forgiveth all our sins, and healeth all our infirmities; and, when he heals them not, will make them a blessing.

"Do, my dearest Friend, persist, in a prudent way, to bear your testimony for a Master, who has bought you with his very life, and intends to make you partaker of his everlasting kingdom. If this does you or yours any real harm, reproach me with it, when we shall both stand in the presence of the whole world, and before the tribunal of our Judge.-Losing blood agreed with me; gave me spirits; and, I hope, will do me good. J. HERVEY."

The following Epitaph is inscribed upon a large slab of plain black marble, in the Chancel of the Church of Buxted in Sussex, near the reliques of the celebrated Dr. WOTTON*; whose daughter was " Anne, the wife of Mild William Clarke †," the Father and Mother of the worthy character recorded in this epitaph: "Hic. conditur

Prope. relliquias .avi . sui. celeberrimi. G. WoTTON, D. D.
Quod superest
EDVARDI CLARKE, A. M.

Collegii. Sanci. Johannis. apud. Cantabrigienses
Olim . Socii

Et. Parochiæ hujusce. per. multos. annos. Rectoris
Natus anno. Salutis. MDCCXXX, decessit MDCCLXXXVI.

Sub. eodem. quoque. marmore

Sepulta est. ANNA amantissima ejus. uxor

Lecti prius nunc. Tumuli. Consors

Nata. MDCCXXXVII. nupta. MDCCLXIII. obiit. MDCCCII.

Patri. Matrique.
H.M.S.P.
Liberi. superstites.‡

Ponendum. curaverunt.

Of whom see "Literary Anecdotes," IV. 253, 368. +Ib. 363. ‡Ib. 382. Rev. James Stanier Clarke, and the Edw. Dan. Clarke; ib. 387. 289.

ORRECTIO

ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS.

P. 59. " Bp. Warburton, when in 1764 he mentions forty years ago,' speaks in round numbers. He was presented by the Duke of Newcastle to the Rectory of Firsby on the death of Mr. Thomas Heron; who, as appears from the Registers of that parish, was buried in 1730. The name of no other Rector can be found in those Registers till 1754; when William Warburton, D. D. Rector,' together with the Curate's, and Churchwardens' names for the time being, are all fairly written on a blank leaf in the beginning of a Register-book." R. S.-Dr. Warburton resigned Firsby in 1756.

Ibid. A singular coincidence of circumstances attended the death of Dr. Stukeley, in March 1765. Mr. Harris, the Lecturer of St. George, had just deceased; in consequence of which an election was appointed. The candidates were, Mr. Hollingbury, of the Charter-house, and Mr. Floyd. The latter had a majority of one vote till Mr. Serjeant Eyre arrived from his house in Queen-square, whence he was brought in a chaise, in consequence of previous indisposition. Mr. Eyre's vote given, the candidates had equal numbers. Thus situated, Dr. Stukeley exercised his right of voting a second time, as Rector of the parish, which he gave to Mr. Hollingbury, who was immediately declared duly elected. All this was in the common course of events. But mark the catastrophe of an ecclesiastical contested election: the Rector caught a violent cold in the vestry-room, that terminated in a paralytic stroke, and that in his death, aged upwards of 78. The Serjeant fell in the same room, exhausted by illness, was carried home, and exhausted in a few days afterwards.

P. 112, note, r. " John Law, esq."

P. 193. The Volume of Poems published by Concanen contains several articles very creditable to a young man. In 1721, in the Prologue to his Comedy of " Wexford Wells," he apologizes for an unpractis'd Muse,

Who boldly soars on wings of Fame, and sings

Ere twenty summers yet have fledg'd his wings."

He wrote "A Pastoral on the death of Thomas the first Lord Southwell, who died Aug. 4, 1720;" and, in A Survey of the Court," characterized the leading Beauties and Statesmen of Ireland in the Vice-royalty of the Duke of Grafton.

"The Match at Foot-ball," a mock-heroic in Three Cantos, is a pleasing description of that athletic exercise, between six young men of Lusk against six from Sands, two townships about seven miles to the North of Dublin.

One Poem I transcribe, as the greater part of the opinions must be allowed to be perfectly correct; and it is the rather selected from the just compliment he pays in it to SWIFT and POPE. "Letter to a CRITICK, in Vindication of the MODERN POETS.

"How oft, my Friend, hast thou with grief unfeign'd Of the vast dearth of modern Wit complain'd!

Against

Against the Learning of our age exclaim'd;
Revil'd our Poets, and their Works defam'd!
Run o'er with rapture Virgil's sacred page;
And swell'd with transport at old Homer's rage!
Unmindful that our times can Writers show,
Whose breasts with ardour, scarce inferior, glow.
To you its date best recommends the Writ,
And ev'ry thing that's antient must be Wit.
Three hundred years set Chaucer's fame to rights;
And Spenser only for his age delights;
Fletcher, because long dead, in Fame survives,
While Vanbrugh's greatest fault is, that he lives.
Such is the prejudice which Mankind sways,
Ev'n these have had their Criticks in their days;
For hell-born Envy, with malignant care,
Still blasts the praises which she cannot share,
The haggard fiend the living Bard pursues,
Exerts the spoiler, and infests the Muse;
Rescued by Fate, Fame rises from the tomb,
And only then the bays begin to bloom.
Since all allow the dead their shares in fame,
Then hear me triumph in the living's name.
Throw off the Critick, to put on the Friend,
And pardon what your judgment can't commend.
Too well I know the hazards which I run,
And see the perils I neglect to shun.
Full of my theme, I dare infringe your laws,
And merit censure while I give applause.

When Southern melts in unaffected strains,
What soft confusion in our bosom reigns!
Reason in vain forbids our eyes to flow,
And feign'd distress gives undissembled woe.
Congreve, her darling, ev'ry Muse design'd,
Congreve to no one excellence confin'd,
Equally great in all-in him conspire
Your Ovid's softness, and your Pindar's fire:
In his gay scenes the comic spirit shines,
And all the Graces revel in his lines:

When he with nobler pride the buskin wears,
He moves our wonder, and commands our tears.
Great and unmatch'd is laurel'd Eusden's praise,
At once to merit and adorn the bays;
Like some smooth riv'let flows his charming strain,
Which neither rocks disturb, nor floods detain:
Such depth and clearness in his verses meet,
Strong as the stream, and as its murmurs sweet.
With pleasing notes the woods and valleys ring
If Pope's harmonious hand but touch the string;
His gentle numbers charm the ravish'd plains,
While still attention holds the wond'ring swains.

As when the birds of ev'ry tuneful kind,
Within the limits of a grove confin'd;

To him the Classics all their art have shewn,
Yet all his wit and spirit are his own;

He knows their methods to pursue their race,
Yet scorns their footsteps servilely to trace.
Before Columbus rose, mistaken men

B'liev'd nought beyond their sires' short-sighted ken;
So heretofore our plodding Criticks thought
Nothing was sense but what the Ancients taught,
Till Swift launch'd forth, and boldly dar'd explore
New worlds of Wit, unknown to those before.

So many charms in Granville's Muse appear,
"Tis doublful if his Mira be more fair:
Mira, the sex's envy, and their shame,
By cruelty for ever blasts her fame,
Unmov'd she listens to their syren tongue,
And hears the melting accents of that song
Which ev'ry other fair with softness wound,
Who bless the pain, and die upon the sound.

There Young arrests the Muse, and claims her praise From the vast grandeur of his tow'ring lays; In him no abject words, expressions mean, Or grov'ling thoughts, debase the labour'd scene; Him Heaven ordain'd the boast of Britain's Isle, Prop of her Stage, and standard of her style; With pleasing force he boldly strikes the heart, And adds to strength and nature grace and art. Soft Philips next, who to his artful song Tunes the gay gambols of the rustic throng, Our lyre ennobles, and exalts our scene, With the great names of Sappho and Racine; Reflects their beauties like a flatt'ring glass, And shews ev'n Strada fairer than he was: The tuneful hand can all our senses charm,

With tempests please, with frozen billows warm.

Fain would I rove through Steele's instructive page, Admire the Bard, and venerate the Sage;

Sewel's unbounded excellence display,

Or trace the pleasing elegance of Gay;

Their artless musick warble through the sprays,

And in divine confusion mix their lays :

The note still chang'd, our raptur'd sense confounds

With mingling melody, and blending sounds;

While none its single excellence can boast,

But in the gen'ral harmony is lost.

Such are his works, and such is ev'ry song
Alike all easy, and alike all strong.

The grateful Muse to Swift exulting flies,
By whom upborn these arduous tracts she tries;

Grov'ling

Grov'ling on earth she lay unfledg'd before,
Till, rais'd by him, she first essay'd to soar:
But dare not venture, lest my want of skill
Should praise them better than my strength of will,
Their lines draw lustre from the shades in mine,
And painting ill obstruct my great design.

Nor are these all-unnumber'd lights appear,
To guide our ways, and gild our hemisphere
With pow'r illustrious, and with art divine,
And in collected excellence they shire.

As when the clouded mantle of the Night,
With stars bespangled, shines serenely bright,
Some more conspicuous dart their trembling rays,
While some united form one common blaze."

P. 199, note, 1. 1. r. "1728-9.”

P. 263. Hawley Bishop, esq. the "other kind labourer in the vineyard," is enumerated by Mr. Theobald in his Preface among his generous assistants. He probably died about that period; as did another of his friends, Edward Roome, esq. See p. 326. P.669. The following pathetic lines, on the death of the younger Dr. Lettsom, were written by the Rev. Thomas Maurice.

“On virtuous LETTSOM, in his manly bloom,
Resistless, Death's eternal shades descend;

While kindred love and friendship round his tomb,
In speechless agony distracted bend.

Ah! what avails above the vulgar throng,
To rise in genius, or in worth to soar;
Impetuous rolls the stream of time along,

The bubble bursts, and life's gay dream is o'er.
In ev'ry stage of varying life approv'd,

And still of toiling want the stedfast friend,

He passed his transient day-admir'd-belov'd;

ALL prais'd him living-ALL bemoan his end.

From Heaven's high throne the Almighty Sire look'd down,
Well pleas'd to view such worth below the skies;

He saw him ripe for an immortal crown,

And bade his soul quit Earth for PARADISE."

P. 683. 1. 34. r. Elysian Fields; though, &c.-Dr. Lettsom's pleasing Letter of invitation, to a Sermon for the Royal Humane Society, and a dinner at his Camberwell Villa, was thus answered: Leicester, Sept. 7, 1795.

"DEAR DOCTOR, "After three or four days hard fatigue in the exploring of Antiquarian Mines, on returning to Leicester through perilous roads at one in the morning, I find a large packet of letters, many of them from those I esteem-particularly one which I read with singular pleasure, from the man who unites the two qualities for which Dr. Johnson commended Dr. James and Mr. Garrick- from him who lengthens, and him who gladdens life. -Yes, my good Doctor, I will certainly meet you at Philippi;