hitherto unnoticed in the Neighbourhood of West Woodyates," by that elegant and learned Antiquary Sir Richard Hoare; who also, in the most liberal manner, permitted the use of such of his beautiful Plates as related to the Tumuli situated in Dorsetshire. From this portion of the Work we shall take an extract which cannot fail to interest our Readers: "Amongst the flints we perceived large pieces of stags' horns, and half a stone celt; and at the depth of eleven feet, after a very laborious removal of an immense collection of flints, we discovered a skeleton of large proportions lying North-east by South-west, on its left side, with both legs gathered up according to the most antient and primitive usage. Near its side was deposited a most beautiful brazen dagger, that had. been gilt, and protected by a wooden scabbard, some part of which was still seen adhering to it, also a large and a small ornament of jet perforated with two holes of suspension. Near the thighbone of the skeleton was another ornament of jet resembling a pulley, four very perfect arrow-heads of flint, as well as some pieces of flint, chipped and prepared for similar weapons, and a small brass pin. A fine urn, probably the drinking cup, lay broken at the feet of this British hero. A selection of these articles is engraved in Tumuli Plate XXXIV. "The opening of this barrow was attended by so many awful circumstances, and gave birth to so beautiful and truly descriptive a Poem, by my friend the Rev. William Lisle Bowles, who attended our operations, that it will ever be remembered both with horror and pleasure by those who were present. During the tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, by which my friend and companion Mr. Fenton, my surveyor Mr. Philip Crocker, &c. &c. were surprized, our only place of refuge was the tumulus, which had been excavated to a considerable depth; the lightning flashed upon our spades and iron instruments, and the large flints poured down upon s from the summit of the barrow so abundantly and so forcibly, that we were obliged to quit our hiding place, and abide the pelting of the pitiless storm upon the bleak and unsheltered down. "Mr. Bowles took leave of us the same evening, and on the ensuing morning sent me the following spirited Poem, so truly descriptive of the awful scene we had lately witnessed: "Let me, let me sleep again;' Thus, methought, in feeble strain, Since Since Plain'd from its disturbed bed While the high rais'd flinty road A late industrious Antiquary, the Rev. Wm. Bawdwen, contributed a translation of Domesday book, so far as relates to Dorsetshire. This follows a copy of the original Domesday Book, printed in a novel manner, worthy of imitation. The words are given at full length; those letters which are not in the original being printed in Italics. This renders the whole more intelligible, at the same time that it answers all the purposes of a fac-simile transcript. The Topographical Portion of the Volume embraces the Hundreds of Sherbourne, Stourminster Newton, Whiteway, and Yetminster; and the Liberties of Alton Pancras, Halstock, Mintern, Mintern, Piddle Trenthide, Ryme Intrinseca, Sydling St. Nicholas, and Stour Provost. Our limits will not permit us to notice the various improvements observable in the account of every parish; more particularly in the ample history of the town of Sherbourne. This article in the first edition was confined to 30 pages: in the present edition it is enlarged to 74, and is illustrated by many interesting Plates. The Appendix Volume contains very copious Additions and Corrections to the whole Work; with ample General Indexes; and is enriched with 28 additional Plates. Amongst the numerous embellishments are particularly to be commended many Plates of Noblemen's and Gentlemen's Seats, which have been handsomely contributed to the Work by their respective owners. These are very well engraved by Basire, Landseer, G. Cooke, W. Woolnoth, Emes, &c. Of these, three from the drawings of Mr. J. Buckler, F.S.A. have very considerable merit: Sherbourne Lodge, the seat of Earl Digby, and Symondsbury Church and Rectory, the seat of the Rev. Gregory Raymond, both engraved by Mr. G. Cooke; and Parnham House, the seat of Sir Wm. Oglander, Bart. engraved by Mr. W. Woolnoth. A list of the Subscribers is prefixed to the volume, by which it appears that only 103 copies of this work (which was so laborious as well as expensive to the publishers in its production) have been disposed of*; and we may therefore, in the words of the surviving Editor, justly" congratulate the Subscribers on possessing a work which, to say nothing of its intrinsic merit, will always be considered as one of the Libri rarissimi of a Topographical Collection; and which contains not less than CXCVIII folio Plates, besides very numerous Vignettes. May the whole give satisfac tion!" In conclusion, we think it will be acknowledged that our industrious It is in cases like the above where the hardship and impolicy of the Copyright Act is most conspicuous. If the present legal interpretation of the Copyright Act of Queen Anne had been acted upon in 1811, it would have placed an effectual extinguisher on the completion of the History of Dorsetshire. 6 "The most perfect work of Poetry, says Aristotle, is Tragedy; but Dryden has said an Heroic Poem is certainly the greatest work in human nature:-to use his own words, The beauties and perfections of the other are but mechanical; those of the Epic are more noble, the action is greater, the extension of time enlarges the pleasure of the reader, and the episodes give it more ornament and more variety: the instruction is equal, but the first is only instructive, the latter forms a Hero, and a Prince.' How far I have succeeded in this most arduous attempt, labouring under every possible disadvantage, having no library to consult, no Pollio, Mæcenas, or Pliny, to encourage,-an attempt that few have had the hardihood to undertake, and still fewer been successful in, I must leave to the judgment of my read ers. With regard to those whose sober turn of mind cannot relish the daring and noble flights of poetic imagination, and think it profanation to intwine the shades of sacred history with fiction's flowers, though it be only the filling up the outlines of what once formed long and wonderful narratives, I would refer them to Dr. Blair on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, Lecture xxxviii. in which he says, 'Lord Bacon-takes notice of our taste for fictitious history, as a proof of the greatness and dignity of the human mind. He observes, very ingeniously, that the objects of this world, and the common train of affairs which we behold going on in it, do not fill the mind, nor give it entire satisfaction: we seek for something that shall expand the mind in a greater degree,—we seek for more heroic and illustrious deeds, for more diversified and surprising events, for a more splendid order of things, a more regular and just distribution of rewards and punish- · ments, than we can find here. Because we meet not these in true history, we have recourse to fiction; we create worlds according to our own fancy, in order to gratify our capacious desires, accommodating the appearances of things to the desires of the mind, and not bringing down the mind, as history and philosophy do, to the course of events.'" From the First Book, which opens with a description of the Witch of Endor, in a general assembly of Dæmons and Weird Sisters, holding a consultation on the best means of overthrowing Saul King of Israel; we extract the Witch's character. "Dark was the night, and loud the tem pest rav'd, As on the strand the hag of Endor stood, Which skirts the blue-rob'd sea of Cinneroth; [ing blast, High wav'd her wild locks on the passAnd thrice, with potent witcheries and spells, [isle, She call'd the guardian dæmon of the That in the centre of the troubled deep Rose forest - crested and begirt with rocks ; Which never fisherman, by evening star Or moonbeam, visited: for horrid sights And sounds unholy had been seen and heard [shores By some whom storms had haply on its Night-founder'd.-Soon to view appear'd the fiend [him shone Crossing the mountain billows ; round A ghastly radiance, from the robe he wore, Of green and purple flame, which thro' the gloom [winds Beam'd like a meteor waving on the That hurried howling by him! Soon embark'd [grinn'd The witch to reach the isle; terrific Her ferryman as on the midnight waves Their skiff, embosom'd in a whirlwind, rode; [ing bolts And glaring lightnings shot their hissAgainst the upstart surges foam-crown'd heads. [waves, Dire was the war of thunders, winds, and And to her dark foundation shook the globe [touch'd the isle! As, muttering charms, the sorceress On to th' enchanted cavern now she mov'd [step With strides gigantic! while at every Serpents and noxious reptiles hiss'd around, [that kill'd More frightful than the brinded snake The bride of Orpheus on her nuptial day. The brazen portal mid the yawning rocks [hand Now met her glistening eye, her wither'd The magic horn, that by a golden chain Hung from a beetling cliff of adamant, Seiz'd dauntless, and a blast so loudly blew [ful clang As drown'd the thunder, and with fearFrom rock to rock re-echo'd thro' the storm! With instantaneous crash asunder flew The massy gates! when straight appear'd a den [sights! Of vast extent, and full of loathsome The witches' Pandæmonium, and the haunt Of spirits foul and monsters terrible !" The Eleventh Book opens with the grand battle on Mount Gilboa; the defeat of Saul's army; the death of Saul and Jonathan; the funeral of the King and his Sons; and thus closes with the Coronation of David: "On either side The Regal Minstrel walk'd his beauteous wives; [mov'd On his right hand th' imperial Michal In splendour, majesty, and native grace, More like a goddess than an earthly Queen. [might, Behind the King, like brazen towers of His martial Worthies march'd; his faithful band, [gers, toils, That bravely with him shar'd the danAnd miseries of banishment, now clos'd The warlike grand parade. Amid the hall [heap'd, Before an altar, with rich off'rings And with a thousand smoking gums perfum'd, [oil, The Monarch kneels: a horn of sacred Ta'en from the curtain'd fane, the highpriest pours O'er all his golden locks; a fragrancy More exquisite than gales that fables dream Of blest Elysium fan the bloomy groves, Spreads thro' the hall, and cheers the multitude. Then with the regal crown Abiather His godlike brow adorns, and to the throne The new-inaugurated Sov'reign leads. A hest of shouts from the enraptur'd throng, [spire Loud as the rolling sea when storms conTo lash with thunderbolts its mountain surge, Rose lofty as the azure arch of heav'n! The minstrels strike their harps, the cymbals clash, [heard, The trumpet and the cornet's notes are Mingled with voice of damsel and of bard, [the hosts Sackbut and psalt'ry sweet. Again Their royal leader greet, and rend the skies [more loud With thrice- redoubled plaudits; yet They strike their ringing shields, till hill and dale [ing sound. Far distant tremble with th' earth-shakScarce had the chorus ceas'd, when to the sight Of mortals, round th' imperial seat of state, Michael, Michael, the prince celestial of the tribes, And Abdiel, David's guardian, now appear'd, [bright wings! His throne encircling with their sunA train of seraphs hover'd o'er his head With harps of gold, breathing the airs of heav'n! The warriors prostrate on their faces fell, For now a sea of liquid light enspher'd The godlike King, while unimagin'd pomp [seat! And burning glory hemm'd the sov'reign The golden lyres were heard again to chime, And notes angelical rung thro' the hall, Inspiring ecstasies; and this the song: Hail, kingly warrior, son of deathless fame! Hail, fav'rite of th' eternal King of kings! Thy throne for ever shall establish'd be, Thy empire never end! for of thy line The great Messiah, heaven's anointed Son, [domain Shall in due time be born! His wide Will to the utmost corners of the globe, And the green islands of the sea, extend, Till Time and Day's bright orb in darkness die! [ascends, Where'er the Sun with golden beams And where its setting lustre gilds the West; [ray, Or Moon, Night's Regent, with her paler The distant kingdoms of the earth illumes, There shall his name be heard and praises sung, [come! Till the vast world one temple great beTherein all Nations to its rightful Lord Shall grateful homage pay; and there shall spread His sacred knowledge, as the ocean-floods Cover the wide abyss, from Pole to Pole !" 100. Pastoral Duties; small 8vo, pp. 108. Hatchard, "AS this little Tract may fall into the hands of persons whom it would be the height of presumption to address, they are entreated to believe that it is not arrogantly intended to offer counsel where it would be equally inappropriate and impertinent; but to solicit the attention of such young men as are entering into Holy Orders without a due consideration of the solemnity of their engagements, or a proportionate enlargement in their views of the various duties of so sacred a profession. Yet even with this limitation, the writer is aware that much indulgence will be needed for the imperfect treatment of a subject which is too vast for the grasp of common abilities." The young Divine who attentively peruses this admirable treatise will be the better for it during the remainder of his life. One specimen may suffice. "To visit and instruct the poor is so generally acknowledged to be a parochial duty, that it were offensive to doubt of its fulfilment. The merits of a clergyman are correctly appreciated by many of this class, which often furnishes their most earnest auditors, who evince a strong susceptibility of the attention paid to their spiritual welfare, and an equal jealousy of neglect. But while endeavouring to awaken religious sensibility, no small degree of caution will be needed; the language in which pious sentiments are commonly invested, is easy of acquirement, and too often is it echoed by those whose hearts are far from being responsive to their lips. Simplicity in your own manner will best counteract this dangerous hypocrisy, which will be most effectually expelled by the habit of measuring all growth in grace by Christian tempers, and by the advances made in obeying the precepts, and following the example of our Saviour, who adapted them with indisputable precision and infinite variety to every exigence. The surest evidence of the influence of religion on the heart, must be deduced from that activity of Christian feeling which would render its possessor as prone to moderation, contentment, thankfulness, charity, resignation, humility, devotion, as he is by nature to the opposite dispositions: and although much allowance must be made for infirmity of temper, and the natural sinfulness of the human heart; still the sincerity of those who profess themselves to be religious can only be judged of by their progress in these virtues, to which the lowly or the great may equally aspire. A few words may describe the characteristics, or the effects of such Christian dispositions; but to stimulate their cultivation, and to guide your people in their pursuit, is more devoutly to be wished than easily accomplished. The dignity and worth of the pastoral charge, and its beneficial influence on public manners, are fully appreciated by those who have seen the respected and beloved parochial Minister associated in domestic converse with the several families of the parish committed to his carę; profaneness and impiety are silenced by his presence, the hours of innocent conviviality are improved by the judicious adaptation of a word in season; and by the incidental intercourse of an habitually kind, candid, and pious conversation, when out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh; by those who have seen him also conveying the aspirations of hope and comfort into the abodes of suf fering and sorrow, attending the bed of sickness with the sacred memorials of the Saviour's intercession, and the instructive and deeply affecting commemoration of the innumerable benefits which by his precious blood-shedding he hath obtained to us;' when the love of Christ constraineth the humbled and penitent worshiper to a grateful and pious amendment of life, or calms the terror of a dying hour with the Gospel hope of great and endless comfort.'" 101. The Fudge Family in Paris. Edited by Thomas Brown the Younger, Author of the Twopenny Post Bag. Seventh Edition, pp. 168. Longman & Co. THE rapid circulation of this little Work affords an unequivocal acknowledgment of its merit, and of the manner in which it is appreciated by the publick. per It may indeed with great truth be said that this jeu d'esprit abounds in comic humour; and it is evidently the sportive effusion of an elegant and fertile mind. But the unjustifiable sonalities are unworthy the acknowledged talents of its reputed Author. The cruel reflexions on the King of France, in particular, (not to mention the Representative of our own afflict. ed Sovereign) are as wanton as they are unmanly. The Fudge Family is composed of four travellers, who give a metrical history of their various pursuits and adventures in Paris. Two of these personages are engrossed by political subjects, which certainly do not always assimilate with the more gay and volatile elements of the Work; but these have at least the effect of giving peculiar zest to the spirited animadversions of Mr. Bob Fudge, an exquisite critic in dress and cookery, and to the more piquant descriptions of his sister Biddy, who is a most agreeable compound of archness and simplicity. As a specimen of this young Lady's epistolary powers, we subjoin the following extract from her introductory letter: From Miss Biddy Fudge to Miss Dorothy of Clonskilty, in Ireland. Amiens. Dear Doll, while the tails of our horses are plaiting, [door The trunks tying on, and Papa at the Into very bad French is as usual translating [more, His English resolve, not to give one sou 1 sit down to write you a line - Only think! [and French ink, A letter from France, with French pens How delightful! though would you believe it, my dear? [here, I have seen nothing yet very wonderful No adventure, no sentiment, far as we've come, [as at home; But the corn-fields and trees, quite as dull And but for the Post-boy, his boots and his queue, [you! I might just as well be at Clonskilty with In vain at Dessein's did I take from my trunk [ing "The Monk;" That divine fellow Sterne, and fall readIn vain did I think of his charming dead Ass, [let-Alas! And remember the crust, and the walNo Monks can be had now for love or for money, [Boney) (All owing, Pa says, to that Infidel And though one little Neddy we saw in our drive Out of classical Nampont, the beast was alive!" note 'em, "What a time since I wrote! I'm a sad, naughty girl, [twirl, Though like a teetotum I'm all in a Yet ev❜n (as you wittily say) a teetotum Between all its twirls gives a letter to [my dresses, My gowns, so divine! thère's no language But, Lord, such a place! and then, Dolly, [nifique, Except just the two words superbe, magThe trimmings of that which I had home [which sounded It is called, I forget, à la-something Like alicampane: but in truth, I'm confounded expresses, last week, And bother'd, my dear, twixt that troublesome boy's [le Roi's, (Bob's) cookery language, and Madame What with fillets of roses, and fillets of [with eel, Things garni with lace, and things garni veal, One's hair and one's cutlets both en papillote, [have by rote, And a thousand more things I shall ne'er I can scarce tell the difference, at least as to phrase, [braise. Between beef à la Psyche, and curls à la But in short, dear, I'm trick'd out quite à la Française, [and poking, Like things that are put to keep chimWith my bonnet so beautiful, high up, neys from smoking. [delights Where shall I begin with the endless Of this Eden of milliners, monkeys, and sights, This dear busy place, where there's nothing transacting But dressing and dinnering, dancing and acting." In a subsequent page the young lady proceeds to relate an incident |
