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!
Where a war's carry'd on between friend and friend,
Which, whoever fhall conquer, must fatally end.
Oh! curfe on the authors! aloud exclaim'd he,
That they have their reward, heav'n grant I may
To their much injur'd country victims be led,
With B- and the R-b-c-n lord, at their head.
Such victims alone the gods can appease,
Sweet peace can reftore, and the people well please.
As he utter'd thefe words, a fpontaneous figh
Burft forth from my breaft, and Amen did I cry.
That moment, my principles totally chang'd,
And all my ideas were newly arrang'd.

I now feel for my country; and when I compare
The past with the prefent, I cannot forbare
Sincerely to join in the wifh of my friend
That fignal difhonour and fome fatal end,
The authors of this fad reverse may attend.
And whenever my r-y-1 m-fter appears,
As I creep along by him, I always fhed tears;
To think what a tract from his empire is rent,
Thro' his fervants perverfenefs and mifmanagement:
With the lofs we've sustain❜d in all branches of trade,
Ever fince the impolitic breach has been made:
Then again I reflect on our numerous foes-
What will be the event of it God only knows.'

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,
Oft finds a poifon where he fought a cure;
For grave deceivers lodge their labours here,
And cloud the science they pretend to clear:
Scourges for fin the folemn tribe are sent
Like fire and ftorms, they call us to repent;
But ftorms fubfide, and fires forget to rage;
These are eternal fcourges of the age:
'Tis not enough that each terrific hand
Spreads defolation round a guilty land;
But, train'd to ill, and harden'd by its crimes,

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,
A thousand vifions float around my head;

Hark! hollow blasts through empty courts refound,
And fhadowy forms with staring eyes ftalk round;
See! moats and bridges, walls and caftles rife,
Ghofts, fairies, dæmons, dance before our eyes;
Lo! magic verfe infcrib'd on golden gate,
And bloody hand that beckons on to fate :
"And who art thou, thou little page, unfold?
Say doth thy lord my Claribel with hold?
Go tell him ftrait, fir knight, thou must refign
Thy captive queen-for Claribel is mine."
Away he flies; and now for bloody deeds,
Black fuits of armour, masks, and foaming steeds;
The giant falls-his recreant throat I feize,
And from his corflet take the maffy keys;
Dukes, lords, and knights in long proceffion move,
Releas'd from bondage with my virgin love; -
She comes, fhe comes in all the charms of youth,
Unequall'd love and unfufpected truth!

Ah! happy he who thus in magic themes,
O'er worlds bewitch'd, in early rapture dreams,
Where wild enchantment waves her potent wand,
And Fancy's beauties fill her fairy land;
Where doubtful objects ftrange defires excite,
And fear and ignorance afford delight.

But loft, for ever loft, to me thefe joys,
Which Reafon fcatters, and which Time deltroys;
L. 3

Too

Too dearly bought, maturer Judgment calls
My bufy'd mind from tales and madrigals;
My doughty giants all are flain or fled,

And all my knights, blue, green, and yellow, dead;
No more the midnight fairy tribe I view
All in the merry moonfhine tipling dew;
Ev'n the last lingering fiction of the brain,
The church-yard ghof, is now at rest again;
And all these wayward wanderings of my youth,
Fly Reafon's power, and fhun the light of Truth.'

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."
Be mine to force th' astonish'd troops to run
Before this look, like mifts before the fun!'

To this Damon replies :

Hence to the war! Indulge thy favage ear
With the wild fhrieks of comfortless Despair!

With

With eager joy drink in the widow's cry!
Feast on the frantic mother's agony !

Hark! hark!"My fon! my murder'd fon!" fhe calls,
Then fainting o'er the bleeding body falls.

My blooming hero fhall not die," (fhe cries)
And ftrains him to her breast-her hero dies.
Enjoy her pangs! with rapture fee her tear
The rev'rend honours of her filver hair!
Enjoy her pangs! and let each bursting groan,

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,
Thou beft of parents to the fons of rhime!
Defcend to earth, and vifit my poor cell,

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!
Screw'd up and wrinkled like his knotted cafe;
With tainted bag, that holds volcanic flame
To burn our happiness, and raise our shame;
To fright mankind, and aggravate their fears,
And fet the world together by the ears:
Full on his head, his patch as black as fin,
Shews the dark grumous ftate his brain is in ;
Or perhaps denotes, his pleading by command,
That there the devil lays his ebon hand!
This harpy's plan is only to embroil,

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,
His pompous wig envelopes both his ears;
Seize his fine cane to gaurantee my pate,
And I will all his mummery relate.

Burn first his wig-this robs him of his ftrength;
Then make him write his nonfenfe at full length:
As Dalilah poor Samfon erft did fhave,

Shave close this puffing, peruke-pated knave;
Condemn laud. liq. merc. dulc. and cort. peru.
Bid him prefcribe a phyfic that is new:
If he refuse, then recipe the tote,

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