THE

HE peculiar facility with which Lord Byron pours forth his "unpremeditated strains" is not less astonishing, than the sublimity of ideas and strength of language which are generally discoverable in his writings -we say generally, because there now and then occur prosaic passages, which in a Bard of inferior fame would not be tolerated. To particularize would be invidious, as the Noble Author is himself aware of the "homely phrase" in some of them. The Grave of Churchill bere stands prominent. But to us it is a more pleasing task to point out beauty, than to seek for blemishes.

On the whole, a line which has been somewhat too much ridiculed, may strictly be applied to Lord Byron: "None but himself can be his parallel."

The principal feature of the present publication is "The Prisoner of

Chillon," an affecting story, pathetically and elegantly told in Lord By. ron's best style, and introduced by the following Sonnet :

"Eternal Spirit of the chainless mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,

For there thy habitation is the heartThe heart which love of thee alone can [sign'd

bind; And when thy sons to fetters are conTo fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, [tyrdom, Their country conquers with their marAnd Freedom's fame finds wings on every

wind.

Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar-for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, [efface! By Bonnivard!--May none those marks For they appeal from tyranny to God." The Poem is illustrated by an interesting memoir, of which the author was not sufficiently aware when the Poem was composed," or, he adds, "I should have endeavoured to dig nify the subject by an attempt to celebrate his courage and his virtues. Some account of his life will be found in a note appended to the "Sonnet on Chillon," with which I have been furnished GENT. MAG, January, 1817.

Ը

by the kindness of a citizen of that Republic which is still proud of the memory of a man worthy of the best age of antient freedom."

We shall copy another Sonnet, as more easily detached than some of the other articles : "Rousseau-Voltaire

our Gibbon — [thy shore,

and de Staël Leman! these names are worthy of Thy shore of names like these, wert thou no more, [recall: Their memory thy remembrance would To them thy banks were lovely as to all, But they have made them lovelier, for

the lore

[core Of mighty minds doth hallow in the Of human bearts the ruin of a wall Where dwelt the wise and wondrous;

but by thee

[feel, How much more, Lake of Beauty! do we

In sweetly gliding o'er thy crystal sea, The wild glow of that not ungentle zeal,

Which of the heirs of immortality Is proud, and makes the breath of glory

real!"

We regret that the beautiful Stanzas in p. 24 are not addressed to Lady Byron; and lament that there should lamentable allusions in "Darkness,” be the slightest cause for some of the

and The Dream."

2. The Shepherd's Hunting. By George Wither. Reprinted from the Edition of 1633, collated with the Editions of 1615 and 1620. With a Preface containing an Account of the Author's Fa mily, and a List of his Poetical Works. London, printed by T. Bensley, 1814, 12mo, pp. 71.

THE fashion of reprinting scarce old English books, particularly Poetry, which had attained its height about two years ago, has for some time been on its wane. Perhaps it had been carried too far; but much is to be conceded to the generous zeal, which may sometimes have outrun prudence, and sometimes laste, As long as our notice might have been attributed to some selfish purpose; to a desire of promoting a sale; or an anxiety to secure approbation to an uncertain enterprise, we were silent. The impression of the beautiful little Poem now before us is stated to have been limited to an hundred copies, and the whole of this small edition, we understand, has been loog

*Geneva, Ferney, Coppet, Lausanne.

since

sert.

Within these few months we have seen it argued in more than one work of criticism, that the reign of King James I. was a reign of genius, much misrepresented, and unjustly decried. We suspect that this opinion has sprung in some from a love of singularity, and in others from a very superficial and confused acquaintance with the æra of which they were speaking. It was an age, of which the writings partook of the character of its Monarch; pedantic, subtle, unnatural, and frivolous. We except those whose character was formed, and fame established, under the glorious sceptre of his Predecessor. Their names are too bright to demand a recital here.

Wither had a genius and cast of his own; not, perhaps, very vigorous; nor much endowed with the higher powers of invention or fancy but easy, copious, sensible; full of matter, as well as fluent in language; sensibly impressed with all the varying shades of moral opinion; and elevated with the dignity of poetical endowment.

"Not in Fancy's maze he wander'd long, [song." But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his

Wither had been imprisoned for

certain Satires, entitled, Abuses Stript and Whipt, 1613, &c. and a Satire to the King, 1614, &c. in which he had made free with the corrupt and abominable manners of the Court and City. The present Poem, containing Certain Eclogues, was written during his confinement in the Marshalsea, and first published in 1615. They are dialogues, and open with one between the poet Philarete and his friend Willy (William Browne, the pastoral poet), who, visiting him in his prison, finds that conscious innocence keeps him cheerful under his sufferings. In the 3d Eclogue he says,

"Though my body here in prison rot, [forgot; Yet, when both fame and life have left And my wrong'd Satires seem awhile

those men,

My verse and I'll revive and live again. So, thus enclos'd, I bear Affliction's load, But with more true content than some abroad;

For,

whilst their thoughts do feel my Scourge's sting, [and sing!" In bands I'll leap and dance, and laugh

The 4th Eclogue consists of Philarele's (Wither's) Encouragement to Willy (Browne) "to sing out his Pastorals." Willy says,

"The Pastoral I sung
Is by some suppos'd to be
By a strain too high for me:
So they kindly let me gain
But my labour for my pain.
Trust me, I do wonder why
They should me my own deny.
Though I'm young, I scorn to flit
On the wings of borrow'd wit."

Philarete replies in many beautiful
lines, of which the following are part:
"Never did the Nine impart
The sweet secrets of their art
Unto any that did scorn
We should see their favours worn.
Therefore, unto those that say,
Where they pleas'd to sing a lay
They could do 't, and will not tho',
This I speak, for this I know,
None e'er drunk the Thespian spring,
And knew how, but he did sing!
For that once infus'd in man
Makes him shew't, do what he can.
Nay, those that do only sip
Or but e'en their fingers dip
In that sacred fount, poor elves,
Of that brood will shew themselves :
Yea, in hope to gain them fame,
They will speak, though to their
shame.

Let those then at thee repine
That by their wits measure thine.

Nee de

Needs those songs must be thine own; And that one day will be known." The Poet soon afterwards breaks out into the following noble apostrophe to Poetry:

'Poesy, thou sweet'st content That e'er Heaven to mortals lent; Though they as a trifle leave thee, Whose dull thoughts cannot conceive thee;

Though thou be to them a scorn,
That to nought but earth are born,
Let my life no longer be
Than I am in love with thee!

It can

Tho' our wise ones call thee madness, Let me never taste of gladness, If I love not thy mad'st fits More than all their greatest wits; And tho' some, too seeming holy, Do account thy raptures folly, Thou dost teach me to contemn What makes knaves and fools of them." The limits of our Review will permit no farther extracts. scarcely be expected that the whole of these Eclogues are in a spirit of similar excellence, but they are seldom either tedious or unpoetical; though the fault of diffuseness too generally pervades them. Now and Then the accentuation appears inharmonious to a mere modern ear: and there is something prosaic in the texture of the diction. The last edition was, we believe, as long ago as 1633; and although there had been three prior impressions, 1615, 1620, and 1623, yet a copy was seldom to be found, except in the libraries of the curious.

The present is a beautiful little volame as a specimen of typography; and surely the attraction of modern printing is not to be despised, even by those whose principal attention is engaged by the matter rather than the dress of a work. It is dedicated to Mr. Park by Sir Egerton Brydges, who, among other proofs of his ardent love of old English Poetry, has taken on himself the cost and trouble of this reprint.

It will surely at last become matter of general wouder, how, while many of the contemptible versifiers of the latter half of the 17th century continue to have their scribblings preserved among the body of our National Poets, a selection from the productions of men of so much genius as Wither should never have been attempted to be inserted among them. The political prejudices, which after the Restoration sunk him into neglect

and disgrace, must long have ceased to operate; and the party pamphlets, in rhyme as well as in prose, by which he degraded his pen, and brought into doubt the nobler talents of his better days, might have been easily separated, and left in their merited obscurity without regret.

In Wither's private character there seems to have been a strong mixture of good and evil-a factious spirit; an ill-regulated ambition; a busy and meddling temper; and a doubtful and unchastized taste. He appears to have been an egotist, grasping, querulous, and conceited. The active concern he took in the troubled waters of those times brought him first into suspicion, then into disrepute, and lastly into proscription. He wanted at least prudence, and that self-command, and reserve, which secures respect. He was therefore continually left to poverty, scoffs, and revilings, candid and sagacious perusal of his writings will, however, not easily refuse belief to his continual protestations of innocence and good intention; nor be unaffected by the perpetual recurrence of pathetic and virtuous sentiments which adorn and dignify numerous passages of his best and even of his worst compositions. It was his lot to fall on dangerous times, too severe for the trial of his versatile and restless spirit.

A

4. Nympha Libethus; or, the Cotswold Muse. By Clement Barksdale, A.M. of Sudeley, in Gloucestershire. First printed 1651. A new Edition. London, printed by Bensley, 1818, 12mo, pp. 105. THIS is also by the same Editor, and printed uniform with the two Poems of Wither already mentioned. The original Edition is among the rarest of our old Poetry; and is more valuable for the notices it contains of contemporary friends and authors, than for its poetical merit.

5. Hymns and Songs of the Church. By George Wither. A new Edition, with a Preface by the Editor. London, 1815, 8vo. pp. 306.

IT is to be regretted that this little volume was not printed uniform with the two other Poems of the same Author already mentioned, more especially as it came from the same Press, under the care of the same Editor.

the University of Cambridge, where he was educated. In these productions there is rather mental vigour than poetical gift.

These seven little volumes are brought together as a directory to the collectors of old English Literature. There has not been room to expatiale on any of these works, except the first. Perhaps a future opportunity may be afforded to say something more of the others.

9. The History and Antiquities of the See and Cathedral Church of Norwich. Illustrated with Views, Plans, Sections, Details, &c. By John Britton, F.S.A. 4to. Longman and Co.

WE have to congratulate the publick on the appearance of this work, consisting of 24 plates, a wood cut, which forms the title page, and about 90 pages of letter-press.

We have frequently been surprised and dissatisfied at the miserable and inaccurate engravings of the last century; particularly those of Grone's Antiquities, and also the incorrect specimens published in County Histories, which, however meritorious in their historical details, have some. times been overloaded with the ordinary monuments of different parishes, and the number of bells spe cified in the Churches; while the architecture of antient and curious buildings has been entirely overlooked.

Of the specimens of engraving published since the middle of the last cen tury, perhaps those of" Hearne and Byrne's Antiquities" may be reckoned the best of the kind; but even in that work, which is only to be considered as a selection of picturesque subjects, or mere landscapes, there is great inaccuracy in the details of the buildings. Since that time, several others have followed, differing in form and execu tion; not only picturesque landscapes, but remains of antiquity, are represented by architectural drawings, with plans, sections, and minute details of inouldings, capitals of columns, &c.

It is not our intention to enumerate the different publications of the present time, as it would be almost endless to mention the labours of living artists: their merits must stand or fall on the degree of success they meet from the publick; and it would perhaps be deemed an act of injustice to speak

of