they dared not to approach in the burning bush, and in the noise of thunders, appeared to them sometimes in the freshness of the zephyrs, so the softness of your august countenance dissipates at the same time, and changes into dew the small vapours which cover its majesty." One of these herd of dedicators, after the death of Richelieu, suppressed in a second edition his hyperbolical panegyric, and as a punishment he inflicted on himself, dedicated the work to Jesus Christ!

The same taste characterises our own dedications in the reigns of Charles II. and James II. The great Dryden has carried it to an excessive height; and nothing is more usual than to compare the patron with the Divinity-and at times a fair inference may be drawn that the former was more in the author's mind than God himself! A Welsh bishop made an apology to James I. for prefering the deity to his majesty!

PHILOSOPHICAL DESCRIPTIVE POEMS.

THE BOTANIC GARDEN opened a new route through the trodden groves of Parnassus. The poet, with a prodigality of IMAGINATION, united all the minute accuracy of SCIENCE. It is a performance which makes a prominent figure in our national poetry. It is a highly-repolished labour, and, as I have heard, was in the mind and in the hand of its author for twenty years before its first

publication. The excessive polish of the verse to some will appear by much too high to be endured throughout a long composition; it is certain, that in poems of length, a versification, which is not too florid for certain delicate opusculæ, or lyrical compositions, offends by its brilliancy. I have elsewhere observed that Darwin, in as much as a rich philosophical fancy constitutes a poet, possesses the entire art of poetry; no one has carried the cu rious mechanism of verse and the artificial magic of poetical diction to higher perfection. His volcanic head flamed with imagination, but his torpid heart slept unawakened by passion. His standard of poetry is by much too confined; he supposes that the essence of poetry is something of which a painter can make a picture. A picturesque verse was with him a verse completely poetical. But the language of the passions has no connexion with this principle; in truth what he delineates as poetry itself, is but a province of poetry. Deceived by his illusive standard he has composed a poem which is perpetually fancy, and never passion. Hence his processional splendour fatigues, and his descriptive ingenuity comes at length to be deficient in novelty, and all the miracles of art cannot supply us with one touch of nature. This uniformity which prevails throughout the work might have been obviated had a fable been

invented to connect, in some degree, its numerous descriptions, and to animate the whole by an unity of interest; at present they lie together like unstrung pearls.

Descriptive poetry should be relieved by a skilful intermixture of passages, addressed to the heart as well as to the imagination: perpetual description satiates; and has been considered as one of the inferior branches of poetry. Of this both Thomson and Goldsmith were sensible. In their beautiful descriptive poems they knew the art of animating the pictures of FANCY, with the glow of SENTIment.

Whatever may be thought of the originality of this poem, it has been preceded by others of a congenial disposition. Brookes's poem on "Universal Beauty," published about 1735, presents us with the very model of Darwin's versification; and the Latin poem of De la Croix, in 1727, intitled "Connubia Florum" with his subject. There also exists a race of poems which have hitherto been confined to one object, which the poet selected from the works of nature, to embellish with all the splendour of poetic imagination. I have collected some titles.

Perhaps it is Homer, in his Battle of the Frogs and Mice, and Virgil in the poem on a Gnat, attributed to him, who have given birth to these

lusory poems. The Jesuits, particularly when they composed in Latin verse, were partial to such subjects. There is a little poem on Gold, by P. Le Fevre, distinguished for its elegance; and Brumoy has given the Art of Making Glass; in which he has described its various productions with equal felicity and knowledge. P. Vaniere has written on Pigeons, Du Cerceau on Butterflies. The success which attended these productions produced numerous imitations, of which several were favourably received. Vaniere composed three on the Grape, the Vintage, and the Kitchen Garden. Another poet selected Oranges for his theme; others have chosen for their subjects, Paper, Birds, and fresh-water Fish. Tarillon has inflamed his imagination with Gunpowder; a milder genius, delighted with the oaten pipe, sang of Sheep; one who was more pleased with another kind of pipe, has writtten on Tobacco; and a droll genius wrote a poem on Asses. Two writers have formed didactic poems on the Art of Enigmas, and on Ships.

Others have written on moral subjects. Brumoy has painted the Passions, with a variety of imagery and vivacity of description; P. Meyer has disserted on Anger; Tarillon, like our Stillingfleet, on the Art of Conversation; and a lively writer has discussed the subjects of Humour and wit.

Giannetazzi, an Italian Jesuit, celebrated for his Latin poetry, has composed two volumes of poems on Fishing and Navigation. Fracastor has written delicately on an indelicate subject, his Syphilis. Le Brun wrote a delectable poem on Sweetmeats; another writer on Mineral Waters, and a third on printing. Vida pleases with his Silk-worms and his Chess; Buchanan is ingenious with his Sphere. Malapert has aspired to catch the Winds; the philosophic Huet amused himself with Salt, and again with Tea. The Gardens of Rapin is a finer poem than critics generally can write; Quillet's Callipedia, or Art of getting handsome Children, has been translated by Rowe; and Du Fresnoy at length gratifies the connoisseur with his poem on Painting, by the embellishments which his verses have received from the poetic diction of Mason, and the commentary of Reynolds.

This list might be augmented with a few of our own poets; and there still remain some virgin themes which only require to be touched by the hand of a true poet. The judicious authors of the "Memoirs of Trevoux" observe, in their review of the poem on Gold above-mentioned, "That poems of this kind have the advantage of instructing us very agreeably. All that has been most remarkably said on the subject is united, compressed in a luminous order, and dressed in all the