nion, never offering those striking thoughts nor sublime effusions which in the author's former works have produced so striking an impression, that, once read, they were never forgotten. There is a level merit in this Canto, which does not exalt the fame of so justly renowned a poet; and, upon the whole, it seems more like the unwilling task of winding up, than the strong inspiration of a new passion. Whatever may have been Lord Byron's pursuits in Italy, they do not appear to have been of a kind to nurse and invigorate his genius for the wild and stormy, the fierce torrent, and dark imagery of the antecedent Cantos.There are not even many of those remarkably felicitous expressions which we could wish to quote. There are, however, some which the reader of taste will not fail to discern. Man is boldly apostrophized, Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear: and from the 119th to the 125th stanzas, there are some fine lines on love, thus concluding: We wither from our youth, we gasp awaySick-sick; unfound the boon, unslaked the thirst, Though to the last, in verge of our decay, Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first But all too late,-so are we doubly curst. Love, fame, ambition, avarice,-'tis the same, Each idle-and all ill-and none the worstFor all are meteors with a different name, And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame. There is also much poetry, though very unequal, in a description of the ocean, commencing at CLXXIX. and closing, within two stanzas of the end, at CLXXXV, which our limits forbid us to transcribe, as also a lament over the Princess Charlotte, which is beautiful, though misplaced. We must indeed now content ourselves with only a few verses more. Towards the termination of the Poem there is much of the Author, and of the Pilgrim, his imaginary companion, if he was Aught but a phantasy, and could be classed With forms which live and suffer That the more real personage of the two can be so classed is too "true, 'tis 'pity, pity 'tis 'tis true;"-but there is a degree of anguish and asperity in this portion of his work, which tells only too plainly the unenviable state of his mind. Witness the subjoined bitter effusion : Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine And temple more divinely desolate, And thou, who never yet of human wrong Had it but been from hands less near-in this Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust! Dost thou not hear my heart? Awake! thou shalt and must. It is not that I may not have incurr'd For my ancestral faults or mine the wound The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found, and that moment hastened which, towards a man whose writings have afforded so much delight, would move In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, Before copying the two farewell stanzas, with which we shall also bid farewell, we ought to notice that there are several errors of prosody in this poem, which we are surprised to encounter. The first line of the second Which if I have not taken for the sake But let that pass-I sleep, but thou shalt yet stanza, describing Venice, awake. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now I shrink from what is suffered: let him speak Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak; But in this page a record will I seek. Not in the air shall these my words disperse, Though I be ashes; a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse! That curse shall be Forgiveness.-Have I not— Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven! Have I not had to wrestle with my lot? And only not to desperation driven, From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from Ocean, cannot pass muster and at page 79, another false quantity on a proper name occurs, I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell— having beheld this, the author ought to have known that this Moslem sanctuary is never pronounced Sophia, but Sophia. The address to the Ocean, which we have already alluded to as highly poetical, is deformed by one very notorious vulgarism--the sea is destroying a mariner, who has His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth;-there let him lay. We would hardly have noticed these blots were it not that we consider them, with others which we shall not partido?cularise, as fit for correction in the poem From the loud roar of foaming calumny To the small whisper of the as paltry few, And subtler venom of the reptile crew, The Janus glance of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would seem true, And without utterance save the shrug or sigh Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy. It is lamentable to think that the noble Writer either has, or fancies he which a Byron holds forth as the most elaborate of his productions. That it is so, we are persuaded from internal evidence, and we are also persuaded that it is not the better for the pains bestowed in polishing it; at least, if it has the heat, it wants the fire of its predecessors: if it possesses many beauties, from which nothing of the noble author's can be exempt, it is devoid of those almost supernatural flashes which struck like lightning upon the soul: if we say it is an excellent work, we cannot remember any of the passages which bear the magic stamp of immortal genius. There are many notes, and two little poems annexed, but of these we have no room to deliver our sentiments—a matter which will not injure the writers—and therefore we hasten to conclude, as we proposed, only apologizing for the length of our review, which we have so far extended in the hope of gratifying those distant readers whom it may be some time before Lord Byron's volume reaches. My task is done-my song hath ceased-my theme Has died into an echo; it is fit The spell should break of this protracted dream. Would it were worthier! but I am not now Coxe. We say commenced; -for this It will readily be conceded that in a publication of the limits and variety of the Literary Gazette, little more can be done towards illustrating a volume of The preface states a fact not very the description of that which is now generally known in all its parts. The before us, than briefly to state, as we original and interesting documents col- have done, its general plan, mention lected by the Duchess of Marlborough, the sources whence its intelligence is as materials for the life of her illus-derived, and deliver a candid opinion trious consort, were consigned to Glo- upon the manner in which it is exever and Mallet, to be prepared for cuted. Upon all these points our republication; and her Grace, by will, port must be of the most satisfactory bequeathed 1000l. to the author or au- nature. The plan is excellent, the inthors of a History of the Duke of telligence of the highest order, and the Marlborough. This bequest, however, execution such as was to be expected was clogged by several strange condi- from Archdeacon Coxe. To cover some tions, among others, that the work of the baldness of our notice, we trust should receive the imprimatur of her we shall be forgiven if, even at the risk Executors, and should not contain one of repeating well-known facts, we very line of verse. Glover declined the la- shortly enumerate the prominent feabour, and Mallet never commenced it; tures of this volume. so that on his death the papers were restored to the family, and with others of no less value, arranged by order of the late Duke. Many biographical sketches of greater Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been-ready appeared. One in 1713, conjoined well! Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell with a life of Prince Eugene, and evi- He wore his sandal-shoon, and scallop-shell; conspicuous for documents developing Farewell! with him alone may rest the pain, If such there were-with you the moral of his strain. Il same subject: and, last of all, the the springs of action either in the field or cabinet. In 1738, Abraham de Vryer produced a similar work in Dutch in 1742, a third English life Memoirs of John Duke of Marlborough, still later, a German compilation on the with his original Correspondence, collected from the Family Records at Blenheim, and other authentic sources. lustrated with portraits, maps, and military plans. By William Coxe, M.A. F.R.S. F.S.A. Archdeacon of Wilts. 4to. 1st Vol. pp. 551. 1818. This valuable production can hardly yet be in the hands of many of our readers, and we rejoice to be foremost in welcoming it from the press. It is true that the military exploits of Marlborough form so conspicuous a portion of our national history, as to be familiar, if not accurately known, to every reader; but even the most ostensible of these have long courted the particularization of a work entirely dedicated to their record, and the political and private life of the hero of Blenheim has ever been held to be one of the chief desiderata in English literature. Happily for all parties, and for the public, the task has at length been commenced by so able a writer as Archdeaconless sacred channels. The author, so far as he has gone, appears to us to have built up the third of a truly national monument in a manner honourable to his own literary reputation and to his subject. He has been fortunate in the abundance and value of his materials, and judicious in his employment of them; for he has often made the Duke of Marlborough his own historian, and from his correspondence with the Duchess, Lord Godolphin, and many confidential friends, as well as most of the Sovereigns of Europe, elicited information which would vainly be sought in The Duke of Marlborough, descended of an ancient family, was born at Ashe, in Devonshire, on the 24th of June 1650, and became heir to the fortunes of his father, Sir attachment to the House of Stuart,) on the Winston Churchill, (much impaired by his decease of his elder brother, who died an infant. He was educated at St. Paul's school, and at the age of sixteen entered the army as an Ensign. In this profession he soon distinguished himself; and though the favour of the Duke of York, whose mistress his sister Arabella was, might have more distinctly to be traced to his own skill, some share in his rapid promotion, it was enterprise, and bravery. In the war commencing 1672, he served with the utmost eclat; and was celebrated for his exploits and handsome person beyond any officer of his rank, though on the 3d April 1674, he signed by Lord Peterborough. In 1678 he was appointed Colonel of the regiment remarried Miss Sarah Jennings, the youngest daughter of Richard Jennings, Esq. of Sandridge, near St. Alban's. From this period to 1683, he was employed in political missions of great importance, principally on behalf of his patron the Duke of York, whose struggles with the predominant party at Court are matters of historical notoriety. His first daughter, Henrietta, was born 19th July 1681 and two years after he received his first title, the Scotish barony of Aymouth. Soon after the accession of James II. he was created a British peer by the title of Baron Churchill, of favour, Lord Sandridge espoused the cause Sandridge. Notwithstanding this mark of of the revolution. Two days after the coronation of King William, he was raised to the dignity of Earl of Marlborough, sworn a Privy Counsellor, and made a Lord of the Bedchamber. In 1688-90, Marlborough served under the King in the Netherlands; and at this period it was, when the Princess Anne was disgusted with the treatment she received from William, that he and Godolphin entered into that clandestine correspondence with the exiled Monarch, which has been the subject of so much party discussion. It may be observed, that the friendship and affection between Lady Marlborough and the Princess was of the most fervent kind, and lasted for life: they were more like fond sisters than sovereign and subject, and assumed the fictitious names of Mrs. Freeman and Mrs. Morley in their intercourse, in order to free it from the shackles of etiquette. In 1692, Marlborough was dismissed from all his employments, arrested on a charge of High Treason, and committed to the Tower. Till 1697, factions continuing to run very high, the Earl remained in the back groundbut was then restored to favour, and, with Bishop Burnet, appointed preceptor to the heir-apparent, the young Duke of Gloucester. Soon after, his two eldest daughters, Henrietta and Anne, were espoused by Mr. Godolphin and Lord Spencer,-his family consisting of one son, John, (the second, Charles, dying in infancy) and two other daughters, Elizabeth and Mary. In 1701, Marlborough accompanied the King to Holland, took a marked part in the politics of that and the subsequent year, and was by William strongly recommended to his successor as the most proper person in her dominions to lead her armies and direct her counsels.' Anne, from former attachments, loaded the family and friends of Marlborough with favours. He was appointed generalissimo of the Confederacy, and here begins the history of his memorable campaigns. The same year he was raised to the Dukedom, but in 1703 encountered the dreadful calamity of losing his only son, at the age of 17 years, by the small pox. His third daughter, Elizabeth, had previously married Lord Bridgwater; and not long after, the youngest, Mary, was led to the altar by Viscount Monthermer, son of the Earl (afterwards) Duke of Mon tagu. From 1703 to 1706 inclusive (to which date the present volume reaches) we have a clear and ample account of all His Grace's military and political movements. The battle of Blenheim, in 1704, is the grand feature; and here the Arch deacon shares the merit of his memoirs with Major Smith, the author of The Seven Years War,' who has given him great assistance in the warlike details, in which, it may be supposed from his profession, he was not so conversant as his able coadjutor. The plans and maps are of foremost order; and it is but justice to add, that the facsimiles, portraits,and other ornaments of this book, are of uncommon curiosity and interest. In 1705, the Duke visited Vienna, where he was most graciously received by the Emperor, and created a Prince of the Empire, under the title of Mindelheim. At home, the Manor of Woodstock was conferred upon him, and the Palace of Blenheim ordered to be built. Were we to select from the valuable, new, and original documents with which this volume is stored, we should far exceed those boundaries to which we must confine ourselves. We can only therefore state, that they are as important as they are numerous; and conclude with an anecdote of the reconciliation dinner between the Whigs and Tories in 1705, when Harley and St. John met Halifax, Sunderland, Boyle, Godolphin, and Marlborough. The entertainment passed with great spirit, and apparent cordiality, though the Whigs could not refrain from indicating the suspicions which they still fostered of Harley's subtle and trimming character. Lord Cowper, who was present, says: On the departure of Lord Godolphin, Harley took a glass, and drank to love and friendship, and everlasting union, and wished he had more Tokay to drink it in; we had drank two bottles good, but thick. I replied, his white Lisbon was best to drink it in, being very clear. I suppose he apprehended it (as I observed most of the company did) to relate to that humour of his, which is never to deal clearly or openly; but always with reserve, if not dissimulation, or rather simulation; but to love tricks when not necessary, but from an inward satisfaction in applauding his own cunning. VOYAGE TO THE CONGO. In our Publication of the 11th ult. we brought down this narrative to the first of September, when calamities began to fall so thick and heavily upon the travellers, as to change the hitherto full and ample journal into mere broken sentences. From these we select a few notices, which contribute to our better acquaintance with the country and its products. Sept. 1. Some guinea-fowls were killed, and some partridges of a large kind. Plenty of bees in the rainy season, when the numerous flowers are in blossom. The natives eat wild honey whenever they find it, but are never at the trouble of searching for it; nor do they know the value of wax. Sweetscented flowers, smelling like the jasmine and jonquils. This day, for the first time, observed that the river had begun to rise. The names of the seasons are as under: The dry season, or winter, is called Gondy assivoo; it is from April to September, inclusive. The first rains are called Mallola mantity; they fall in light showers once or twice in 24 hours; commence the latter end of September, and continue to the middle of October. At this time the women prepare the ground with the hoe for planting Indian corn, beans, manioc, &c. The second rains are called Voolaza manin January; they are represented as being sanzy; commence in November, and end very heavy, attended with great heat, but with few tornados. They now plant Indian corn, which ripens in three months. The third rains are named Voolaza chintomba, and continue during the months of February and March. The rain still very heavy, with violent tornados, and storms of thunder, lightning, fiery meteors, and wind. Sept. 2d. A dreary and fatiguing march, with a great difficulty in procuring water. Of the eight white men, Dr. Smith and Mr. Galwey, who now accompanied Captain Tuckey, Mr. Galwey and one Pratt, were this day taken too ill to proceed. Pratt was sent back with two bearers, to Inga, on the 3d; on which day the road continued horrible, through narrow gullies, not eighteen inches wide, and six feet deep, formed by the rains excavating the rocks. On the summit of one of the hills we met a caravan of slave-traders going to Embomma, consisting of 30 men (eight with muskets,) the rest loaded with cassava and ground-nuts, some of which they One man and four boy kindly gave us. slaves were from the Soonda country; all said they were taken in the bushes. One of the boys made the most violent screams on seeing us even the children of seven or eight years old held fast by the hands of their owners, while we were present. Poor wretches! did they know by instinct, that but for white men they would not be torn from their parents and country? The only presents made trade, are worthy of their trafficby Europeans concerned in the slave brandy, muskets, and powder. Some rocks are still seen in the river; but the appearance is much less rugged than each side being lower, though still hilly below (above the upper Sangalla) the land on and very barren, with no trees whatever. The formation also changes at this spot; the pebbly quartz hills having almost entirely given way to clay and ferruginous earth; and the rocks which line the river are now a perfect clay slate. Many hippopotami were visible close to our tents at Condo Yanga, where we were obliged to halt, and to wait some time for a canoe to pass. No use firing at these animals in the water; the only way is to wait till they come on shore to feed at night. During the night they kept up a continual grunting like so many hogs, but none of them came on shore, though we had a constant watch on the beach. Sept. 4. Crossed the river in two canoes, and proceeded up about eight miles, plagued by the Inga bearers threatening every ten minutes to return. we were told was procured from hills on the opposite side of the river. The population here more considerable than what we have seen lower down. The gentlemen's towns forming a continued chain of buildings from the spot where we landed. Provisions seem to be also more plentiful. Several goats, pigs, and fowls, with manioc, ground-nuts, and peas, having been brought to us for sale, as were also mats. Amongst the crowd that surrounded our tent, two or three of the foomoos, or gentlemen, only had any European clothes. The women were here the most horrible dirty looking wretches that can be conceived; equalling the New Hollanders in filth. The palm-trees were more abundant. Fish very plentiful, and of several species unknown, excepting that one was a small bream; they take them with pots, having neither nets, hooks, nor lines. Alligators are so plentiful hereabouts, and so frequently carry off women, who at daylight go down to the river for water, that while they are filling their calabashes, one of the party is usually employed in throwing large stones into the river outside of them. Here I learn that they have two crops of Indian corn a year. Several instances have occurred which shew the minute division of property: three or four people have usually a share in a goat; and even a fowl is seldom without two owners. The division of the price usually creates a dispute, if there should happen to be an odd bead. Sept. 6. After a constant battle with the natives from daylight-about 2 o'clock got two canoes. As they would barely hold eight, I was obliged to walk along shore with a part of the people. We came (three miles up) to a bay in which were ten hippopotami; as the canoes would not venture to come on till these huge creatures were dispersed, we were obliged to fire vollies at them from the shore, and although many shot evidently told, not one of the beasts seemed to be in the least affected by them. The noise, however, together with the exorcism of our old guide, drove them away. The river now, for the first time, bore a majestic appearance, having the land on each side moderately elevated, with little hills of limestone further back, but still almost without wood. At 6 p. m. anchored in a fine bay named Covinda,-the night presented a beautiful picture of repose; fine scenery, the moon, the stillness of the water. Alligators most abundant. Sept 7. Light rains-the river risen three inches in the night-the total or highest rise by the rocks 16 inches.-The people very civil. Set off at 8 a, m. rounded the marble peninsula, and opened out beautiful scenery, equal to any thing on the banks of the Thames; the bare stone rock in many places resembled ruined castles overhanging the river. Several fine grassy coves. Saw a large flock of ducks, the precursors of They braid their hair, and it then looks well, but when undone, horridly frightful, like a black шор. rain. Hired another canoe : from the mode | of rowing, do not go above two miles an hour. A canoe was accidentally broken in two and sunk, with two swivels, Captain T.'s sword, a bundle of umbrellas, and all the cooking utensils. This was a severe loss, and led to great confusion and disputing with the natives. On the 8th, however, the party had advanced ten miles, where the reach of the river running SSE. formed a fine expanse of water, free from all rocks, and from four to five miles in breadth. Here is a fine sandy beach on the north shore; the south steep and rocky. Natives extremely abstemious, a little raw manioc and water, and their pipe, for a day: devour all the meat you will give them. The neighbouring tribes all at war with each other. Their distribution of time consists of a week of four days, or a sona; the first day of which is called Sona, and on this day they refrain from working in the plantations, under the superstitious notion that the crop would fail; they however perform any other kind of work. The second day is named Candoo, the third Ocoonga, and the fourth Cainga. The month, or Gonda, is thirty days; the year M'Voo, consists of the rainy and dry season, that is to say, several Gondas. and the latter They believe in a good and evil principle: the former they call Codian Penba, both supposed to reside in the sky; the former, they say, sends them rain, and the latter withdraws it; however they invoke their favour in the dry season, but it does not seem that they consider them as in any other manner influencing human affairs; nor do they offer them any kind of worship. Their ideas of a future state seem not to admit of any retribution for their conduct in this world; good and bad going equally after death to the sky, where they enjoy a sort of Mahommedan paradise. Sept. 9. More fertile country, and more cultivation. Passed some limestone springs. At 10 reached the gentleman's town of Vooky filou bought some palm wine. Unfortunately I happened to spill some of it at the foot of our gentleman guide, on which he set off in the most violent rage, taking all his men along with him; and I now learned that, next to pointing a musket, the spilling of palm wine was the grossest insult that could be offered to a gentleman. It was full two hours, and after making an ample apology for my accidental impoliteness, and a present of three bunches of beads, that he deigned to shake hands with me, and call his men back. The houses are here larger than below. Two gentlemen with heavy iron chains, and rings on their legs and neck. At 2 p. m. we reached the head of a deep reach named Soondy N'Sanga, running W. by S. and E. by S.; here we stop ped to dine. After dinner I wished to proceed but our bearers refused, asserting that they had already walked two days. Pitched the tent, and with Dr. Smith and Lieut. Hawkey walked to the summit of a hill, where we perceived the view did not extend above three miles of river winding again to the SE. but our the reach; the water clear of rocks, and, according to the information of all the people, there is no impediment whatever, as far as they know, above this place. And here we were under the necessity of turning our back on the river, which we of having done all that we possibly could. did with regret, but with the consciousness Their fatal return we must reserve till our next. LA PRIMA MUSA CLIO. Translated from the Italian of Cesare Avena de Valdiere. By George Baldwin. Or, The Divine Traveller; exhibiting a series of Writings obtained in the Extasy of Magnetic Sleep. 8vo. pp. 614. We earnestly hope that our readers are of acute understandings, for humiliating as it is to professional critics, we are forced to confess that we cannot understand one of the six hundred and fourteen pages of which this Koran of Magnetism consists. Never were we so We cannot believe that this copious volume, well completely defeated. printed, hot-pressed, and with all the outward semblance of a rational work, is nothing better than a collection of such rhapsodies as might be obtained by an accurate short-hand report of what transpires in the cells of Bedlam; but, in sincerity, though we strain our faculties to the utmost, we can make out nothing of the sense or hidden meaning which, we suppose, must be concealed under these extraordinary inspirations. each of which gives, as we are led to The work is divided into Sessions, imagine, the visions of a person magnetized. They are all of the same cast, and any passage of the book affords a perfect specimen of all the rest. open it at random. SESSION XLVIII. : We A Serpent doth himself about me circumvolve: now, into an Eagle he is transformed: now, with his imineasurable wings doth he cover me with him am I lifted up. In the dark, forasmuch as I can judge, am I: velocious do we go. Now he doth leave me: nothing do I see. In a sea of anguish am I. Now, fluttering his wings; a simple ray doth effract; but very dim: the horizon beginning to unfold, doth disclose objects that, as far as I can discern, do appear beautiful! Do I mistake not, night doth yet o'er-rule. Again I do ascend: what bersaglio! As we do proceed, the eagle, another semblance doth take: but what semblance? Of a Nymph, as unto my lumes should appear; but how simple her looks! In her gremb am I. Now she doth put me into the delicious cesto how fragrant! We said this book had no meaning, and we hope it will not be thought to have too much. We try another sortes: SESSION VI. SIXTH NONADE-FIRST DAY. Upon a heap of garlands of blue and white flowers tessuted together, accepted am I: what placidness! Four, do suspend the garland, innocent Genii: those also winged with blue but what lovely semblances! Now they do cover me, and thus within their gremb, half dosing, follow them I must: they are, I do feel, upon the wing. The gentle breezes restling, do, to my seeming, accompany them. A suave, that scarcely is audible, celestial harmony do I delighted hear; that, to repose, the sound doth placidly invite me: but what repose? Thus, and no more! No more would I require; but more is not allowed! The time will come, but too frail am I for the present, such exquisite delight to endure. I do begin (but whither ?) in a scarcely discernible space, to see, what unto my mortal lumes thus covered an arcanum. Now, insensibly it doth diradiate. The coro, that not long since I did scarcely hear, now again, by echo the delicious voices unto mine ear do come conveyed. The air is humid: Ponderous therein do I feel. By the motion I am sensible of, we do I think descend: now some one doth touch me: ah me, enrapt am I: what bliss! They do take away the veil: what light! I do begin to perceive an immensity of snow; but what immensity! All is darkened: what ice! At the desired port are we. What smoke! All the city, from the intensity of the cold, and the great quantity of snow that in this day did fall, hath the appearance of a dark cloud! Now we are over the great square: therein are throngs of people: not in the area of the square, but in the houses forming the four sides thereof; making merry! And we, without the least demurring, shall go to the abode of Scheldt! Here we are: but he is not among them. At the present moment he is in the house of a protestant priest; and there they are staying, my four faithful genii do tell me, under the utmost inquietude; because in measure that we have approximated, the sentiment thereof, hath moved them to return home to consult the oracle: but it hath so happened that they are sounding the lass, the organ; Minteo the harp; they cannot, all things considered, abruptly retire: but soon, with Here he is, coming upon a sledge, drawn by a black horse; with him a servant, and his innocent sacerdoless. What impatience, in their countenance, is expressed; now they do come up: Minteo doth open the to wait upon him, but he doth bid him to leave the room; and not to return while after three hours: he doth shut the door with the iron chain; also the window-shutters, withinside. Now he doth complain that the stuve is too cold: the lass in reality doth tremble a little: but now doth cover herself better. Minteo doth say unto her, My dear, wouldst thou be pleased to influence me; but I fear that thou must be cold: we will wait a little longer: but the lass, all anxiety, thus innocently doth reply: eh, knowest thou not that with this movement of my hand, I do make myself, warm: let us commence. door of the cell: the servant would enter count of his misfortunes, being well re- | faithfully, verbatim et literatim from He doth say unto me that shortly he shall depart for Hamburg, &c. Meanwhile, in the next session that we shall hold, he doth say unto me, that I shall see him again; but in the temple of illustrious men! For the present he doth say unto me, Seest thou that, of iron, rust-eaten chest? Therein is deposited, the, of heaven, imparted gift: Whereof the contents another time thou shalt learn. He then recites some verses against shall I remain alone? Ah no, let us toge- Such is the incomprehensible absur Is it really the case, we would ask, that Ireland in these latter days has produced but one distinguished soldier? Surely not. The names of Wellesley and Packenham, Stewart and Gillespie, would alone, were others wanting, rescue us from such an imputation: and yet many more, in no respect inferior, might with ease be pointed out,-names which, if equalled, could scarcely be surpassed even in England. Proud as we are of the productions of Mr. Read, we do not consider him as being entitled to engross all the poetical reputation of our town. In support of this our opinion, it will be sufficient to adduce the names of Drennant and Drummond,§ as To these two last the vicinity of Belfast lays claim. The poetical effusions which have come from the pen of this gentleman (Dr. Drennan) bear honourable testimony to his genius and taste. conveniency, he will be with us. Weddity of this modern class of philoso-He is (politics apart) an elegant and interesting not go there, because Minteo, if we were near unto him, in a company where, on ac phers; and we assure our readers that writer. Dr. Drummond (formerly of Belfast, now |