not in a tone of unmitigated censure that the life of this extraordinary man should be written. To one who died in his thirtyfourth year something may be allowed on the score of hot youth, unsubdued passions, and principles which were rather unsettled than depraved. It ought also to have been remembered that he was not without some redeeming virtues,-that he had an open heart and a liberal hand, and was as steady as he was ardent in his friendships. Temporary as were the topics upon which he squandered himself, and wicked as was the malignity of his personal satire, the general strain is of that character which, now that all party and personal feelings are gone by, elevates the reader by its manliness and generous spirit. This it is which, like spice in a mummy, has preserved, and will continue to preserve his works from the dissolution to which the subject would otherwise have hastened. The life of such a man should be written in the spirit of philosophy it is not difficult to trace the self-delusions by which he was misled, and the lesson which such a life holds out would be most impressive, when expressed with most charity for one who deserves compassion even more than condemnation.

6

In the biographical account of Falconer, some circumstances are mentioned which ought to be remembered when the question of literary property is under the consideration of the legislature. In consequence of the success of his Marine Dictionary, his widow was beholden to the charity of the late Mr. Cadell for occasional assistance, and notwithstanding the success of his Shipwreck, a deaf and dumb sister of the poet was lately (and perhaps still is) living in a hospital! Mr. Chalmers censures Grainger for having chosen the sugar cane as the subject of a didactic poem: 'connected,' he says, as an English merchant may be with the produce of the West Indies, it will not be easy to persuade the reader of English poetry to study the cultivation of the sugar plant, merely that he may add some new imagery to the more ample stores which he can contemplate without study or trouble.' The , critic's objection is not to the kind of poem, but to the particular subject; now it would be impossible to select any subject for that kind which is capable of being so richly and variously adorned. If Grainger has invoked the muse to sing of rats, and metamorphosed, in Arcadian phrase, negro slaves into swains, the fault is in the writer, not in the topic. The arguments which he has prefixed are indeed ludicrously flat and formal.

Subject proposed-Praise of St. Christopher-The red Brick MouldPraise of Jamaica and Christopher Columbus-Composts may improve other Soils-Whether Dung should be buried in each hole, or scattered over the Piece.-The Beauty of holing regularly by a Line-Of Monkeys -Of Rats and other Vermin-Hymn to the Month of January when

Crop begins-Planters should be pious-When the Sugar is of too loose a Grain, a little Grease settles it-The French often mix sand with their Sugars Their Practice not followed by the English-Of Rum-Its Praise-Negroes when bought should be young and strong-Negroes should always be treated with Humanity-Praise of Freedom-Of Chegres-Of the Yaws-Praise of Commerce-Praise of Louis XIV. for the Code Noir-Praise of the River Thames, &c. &c.'

The wretched and disgraceful history of Boyse gives occasion to Mr. Chalmers to display his prowess against a man of straw. 'There are those,' he says, 'who have no scruple to tell us that genius is an apology for all moral defects, and that none but the plodding prudent sons of dulness would reveal or censure the vices of a favourite poet. Such is already the influence of this perversion of the powers of reasoning, that if it is much longer indulged, no man will be thought worthy of compassion or apology, but he who errs against knowledge and principle, who acts wrong and knows better.' The very commendable morality for this editor is not always improved by its savour of methodism, and it might be well for him to remember that uncharitable feelings are more likely to be misbestowed than charitable ones.

Concerning William Thompson, we may add to the short notices collected by Mr. Chalmers, that he was educated at Appleby school, under Yates, a man who obtained the appellation of the Northern Busby. Yates would always insist upon his spelling his name without the p, saying, you come thomp, thomp, upon one's ear with your Thompson. The poet, however, persisted in retaining a letter which serves at least the purpose of distinguishing his written name from that of the author of the Seasons. Mr. Chalmers incidentally mentions Dennis and Emily as two versifiers of forgotten reputation this Dennis we believe to have been the model on whom Peter Pindar formed his manner; a manner which, bowever grossly it has been misapplied, has become so popular, that the question of its originality is not altogether incurious; and Emily's poem upon Death, which is printed among the Elegant Extracts, shows more ability than is to be found in half the poems of these later volumes, and has procured for the author more reputation than will ever fall to the lot of half those versifiers whom Mr. Chalmers has admitted into his collection.

It is related of Lloyd, that he was betrothed to a sister of Churchill, that she attended him with great affection during his last illness, and died soon after him. Mr. Chalmers says this story is not very probable, adding that the lady did not die till between three or four years afterwards, as if this lapse of time any ways invalidated the fact of her having died of a broken heart! This sort of arbitrary contradiction is at all times reprehensible, and more especially so

when it attempts to throw a doubt upon circumstances which men are the better for believing. What is there improbable in the account? Even Mr. Chalmers, who has no weak compassion for the errors of men like Lloyd, admits that in his friendships he was warm, constant, and grateful, more sinned against than sinning. Why then should he choose to disbelieve that such a man should have been beloved by the sister of his only faithful friend; that that sister attended on him in sorrow, and in sickness, and in prisonwhen every one else had abandoned him, and that she herself died the slow victim of grief? He ought not to have asserted that the story was improbable unless he could have produced some reasons for thinking it so.

'It would be difficult,' says this author, 'even upon the principles of fastidious criticism, and impossible upon those of comparison, to exclude Byrom from a collection of the English poets: merely as literary curiosities his poems are too interesting to be longer neglected.' Their oddity indeed well entitles them to the room which they fill. This writer has been compared of late to the Spanish Friar, Luys de Escobar, for the manner in which he treated of all subjects in easy verse, pouring forth extempore lines upon any thing which came in his way; his opinion of one sermon, his abstract of another; the Passive Participle's Petition to the Printer of the Gentleman's Magazine; remarks on any book or pamphlet of the day; critical remarks on several passages in Horace, in which various readings are proposed in rhyme, versifications of collects and of passages from his favourite divines Law and Jacob Behmen! His head seems to have been a rhyming machine which fell to work upon whatever came into it. One poem entitled Careless Content is so perfectly in the manner of Élizabeth's age, that we can hardly believe it to be an imitation, but are almost disposed to think that Byrom had transcribed it from some old author, and that the transcript being found among his papers, was printed among his works. Let the reader judge for himself. 6 CARELESS CONTENT.

'I am content, I do not care,

Wag as it will the world for me;
When fuss and fret was all my fare,
It got no ground as I could see :
So when away my caring went,
I counted cost, and was content.

With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet:
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.

With good and gentle humour'd hearts,
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts ;
But if I get among the glum,
I hold my tongue to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.
For chance or change of peace or pain;
For Fortune's favour or her frown;
For lack or glut, for loss or gain,

I never dodge, nor up nor down:
But swing what way the ship shall swim,
Or tack about with equal trim.

I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of ev'ry tide;
If simple sense will not succeed

I make no bustling, but abide :
For shining wealth, or scaring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.

Of ups and downs, or ins and outs,

Of they're i'th' wrong, and we're i'th' right, I shun the rancours and the routs,

And wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.

With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor if the folks should flout me, faint;

If wonted welcome be withdrawn,

I cook no kind of a complaint:

With none dispos'd to disagree,
But like them best who best like me.

Not that I rate myself the rule

How all my betters should behave;
But fame shall find me no man's fool,
Nor to a set of men a slave:
I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.
Fond of a true and trusty tie,

I never loose where'er I link;
Tho' if a bus'ness budges by,

I talk thereon just as I think;
My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand.

If names or notions make a noise,
Whatever hap the question hath,
The point impartially I poise,

And read or write but without wrath;
For should I burn, or break my brains,
Pray, who will pay me for my pains?

I love my neighbour as myself,

Myself like him too, by his leave;
Nor to his pleasure, pow'r, or pelf,

Came I to crouch, as I conceive :
Dame Nature doubtless has design'd
A man the monarch of his mind.

Now taste and try this temper, sirs,
Mood it and brood it in your breast;
Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs,

That man does right to mar his rest,
Let me be deft, and debonair,

I am content, I do not care.'-vol. xv. p. 199.

Mr. Chalmers's life of Chatterton is written in that spirit of pharisaic morality which blinds the understanding as much as it hardens the heart. He tells the history of the Rowley papers just as a pleader would have told it at the Old Bailey if Chatterton had been upon trial for forging a bill of exchange! After saying that 'his general conduct during his apprenticeship was decent and regular; and that on one occasion only Mr. Lambert thought him deserving of correction for writing an abusive letter in a feigned hand to his old schoolmaster ;'-he adds, in true Old Bailey logic, 'so soon did this young man learn the art of deceit, which he was now preparing to practise upon a more extensive scale.' When this letter was written Chatterton was hardly fifteen !-Upon publishing his first modern antique in the Bristol Journal, the subject excited inquiry, and the paper being traced to him, he was consequently interrogated, says Mr. Chalmers, probably without much ceremony, where he had obtained it. And here his unhappy disposi tion showed itself in a manner highly affecting in one so young, for he had not yet reached his sixteenth year, and according to all that can be gathered, had not been corrupted either by precept or example.' To the threats, we are told, of those who treated him, agreeably to his appearance, as a child, he returned nothing but haughtiness, and a refusal to give any account. By milder usage he was somewhat softened, and appeared inclined to give all the information in his power. The effect, however, of this mild usage was, that instead of all, or any part of the information in his power, he tried two different falsehoods.'

He became an infidel, but whether this was in consequence of any course of reading into which he had fallen, or that he found it convenient to get rid of the obligations which stood in the way of his post or future schemes, it is not very material to inquire.'In his writings we find some passages that are more licentious than could have been expected from a young man unhackneyed in the ways of vice, but not