be accounted for by supposing the elaborate and frigid passages we have mentioned, to have been redeemed by others of genuine and irresistible eloquence, and by an uncommonly interesting manner in the speaker. Mr. Moore is no apologist for Hastings. After mentioning several circumstances alleged in palliation of his conduct, he thus concludes his summary of the trial:

"Allowing Mr. Hastings, however, the full advantage of these and other strong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible for any real lover of justice and humanity to read the plainest and least exaggerated history of his government, without feeling deep indignation excited at almost every page of it. His predecessors had, it is true, been guilty of wrongs as glaring the treachery of Lord Clive to Omichund in 1757, and the abandonment of Ramnarain to Meer Causim under the administration of Mr. Vansittart, are stains upon the British character which no talents or glory can do away. There are precedents, indeed, to be found, through the annals of our Indian empire, for the formation of the most perfect code of tyranny, in every department, legislative, judicial, and executive, that ever entered into the dreams of intoxicated power. But, while the practice of Mr. Hastings was, at least, as tyrannical as that of his predecessors, the principles upon which he founded that practice were still more odious and unpardonable. In his manner, indeed, of defending himself, he is his own worst accuser-as there is no outrage of power, no violation of faith, that might not be justified by the versatile and ambidextrous doctrines, the lessons of deceit and rules of rapine, which he so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so shamelessly recorded with his pen.

"Nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting school of Indian politics, could have produced the facility with which, as occasion required, he could belie his own recorded assertions, turn hostilely round upon his own expressed opinions, disclaim the proxies which he himself had delegated, and, in short, get rid of all the inconveniences of personal identity, by never acknowledging himself to be bound by any engagement or opinion which himself had formed. To select the worst features of his administration is no very easy task; but the calculating cruelty with which he abetted the exte mination of the Rohillas-his unjust and precipitate execution of Nuncomar, who had stood forth as his accuser, and, therefore, became his victim-his violent aggression upon the Raja of Benares, and that combination of public and private rapacity, which is exhibited in the details of his conduat to the royal family of Oude ;-these are acts, proved by the testimony of himself and his accomplices, from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal upon points of law can absolve him, and whose guilt the allowances of charity may extenuate, but never can remove. That the perpetrator of such deeds should have been popular among the natives of India, only proves how low was the standard of justice, to which the entire tenor of our policy had accustomed them; but that a ruler of this character should be held up to admiration in England, is one of those anomalies with which England, more than any other nation, abounds, and only inclines us to wonder that the true worship of liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a country where such heresies to her sacred cause are found."—p. 338, 339, 340.

In 1792, Mrs. Sheridan died. The work before us is full of the eulogium of her virtues. Her beauty, her various accomplishments, her amiable temper, the sweetness and grace of her manners, and her devoted ailection for her husband, are probably described without any exaggeration; and we are constrained to say, that they leave the follies and errors of Sheridan's private life without the shadow of palliation. If any attraction could have been strong enough to keep him within the orbit of virtue, it must have been the possession of a woman, who is still remembered by all who knew her, as uniting, in her person and character, all that was lovely and excellent in her

sex.

"There has seldom, perhaps, existed a finer combination of all those qualities that attract both eye and heart, than this accomplished and lovely person exhibited. To judge by what we hear, it was impossible to see her without admiration, or know her without love; and a late bishop used to say, that she seemed to him the connecting link between woman and angel." The devotedness of affection, too, with which she was regarded, not only by her own father and sisters, but by all her husband's family, showed that her fascination was of that best kind, which, like charity, "begins at home;" and that while her beauty and music enchanted the world, she had charms more intrinsic and lasting for those who came nearer to her. We have already seen with what pliant sympathy she followed her husband through his various pursuits, identifying herself with the politician as warmly and readily as with the author, and keeping love still attendant on genius through all his transformations. As the wife of the dramatist and manager, we find her calculating the receipts of the house, assisting in the adaptation of her husband's opera, and reading over the plays sent in by dramatic candidates. As the wife of the senator and orator, we see her, with no less zeal, making extraets from state papers, and copying out ponderous pamphlets-entering with all her heart and soul into the details of elections, and even endeavouring to fathom the mysteries of the funds. The affectionate and sensible care with which she watched over, not only her own children, but those which her beloved sister, Mrs. Tickell, confided to her, in dying, gives the finish to this picture of domestic usefulness When it is recollected,

too, that the person thus homelily employed was gifted with every charm that could adorn and delight society, it would be difficult, perhaps, to find any where a more perfect example of that happy mixture of utility and ornament, in which all that is prized by the husband and the lover combines, and which renders woman what the Sacred Fire was to the Parsees--not only an object of adoration on their altars, but a source of warmth and comfort to their hearths.'-p. 391, 392.

We find, on looking over what we have written, that we have already exceeded the limits we had prescribed to ourselves when we set out. We are, therefore, under the necessity of laying aside the book, without commenting on several passages which we had marked for that purpose. The style of this work is such as we might have expected from the

pen of Mr. Moore, abounding with the ornaments and figures of speech, generally employed without effort or affectation, as the abundant and ready riches of an exuberant fancy. In another respect, however, the occasional carelessness and incorrectness of the diction, it differs from that of his poetry.

ART. XIV.-(1.) Logan, an Indian Tale, by SAMUEL Webber, A. M. Cambridge. 1821.

(2.) The Pleasures of Friendship, a Poem, with a few other Poems, and Original Melodies. By JAMES M'HENRY. Philadelphia.

1825.

(3.) Zophiel, a Poem. By MRS. BROOKS. Boston. 1825. (4.) Poems by JOHN TURVILL ADAMS. New-Haven. 1826. (5.) Don Juan. Cantos 17 and 18. New-York. 1825. (6.) Leisure Hours at Sea. By a MIDSHIPMAN OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY. New-York. 1825.

(7.) Poems, by EDWARD C. PINKNEY. Baltimore. 1825. (8.) Odds and Ends. Original and Translated. By ROBERT SWEENY. New-York. 1826.

(9.) Mina, a Dramatic Sketch; with other Poems, by Sumner LINCOLN FAIRfield. Baltimore. 1825.

PHEBUS APOLLO! Look down, not upon a poet, but upon a distressed reviewer, who has dared to summon for inspection, a small platoon of thy votaries! May he handle their laurels tenderly; and discompose no single chaplet, in endeavouring to ascertain whether it be real or artificial! May he crack no chords of any individual lyre, in examining whether it be strung after the fashion of thine own! He bears no malice against the tuneful tribe; for their strains have made many an hour glide away happily, and innocently, and unregretted. He knows the morbid (or rather the sacred) sensibility of the bard; for he committed poetry once, and was cut up delightfully. The dog of a Reviewer who worried him, did his business in a workmanlike manner; but, unfortunately, showed so much abominable ignorance, as to make his brutal castigation ineffectual in the way of improvement.

Fate never wounds so deep the generous heart,

As when a blockhead's venom points the dart.

We wish to rouse the indignation of none of the followers of the "joyous science." We do not wish, either, to display our own ignorance; and, therefore, candidly confess, that we have not particularly read all the metre, arranged under its several VOL. II.

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heads in the caption of our article, (although we have no doubt it is all valuable,) with the exception of two or three, which most attracted our attention.

Not having noticed any of the poetical effusions of our countrymen for some time past, we felt it a duty to make an incursion into the regions of the muses; we accordingly instituted a search in the book-store; and the result of our labours appears in the title.

"LOGAN," on looking at the date, we find, does not come within our jurisdiction. It is founded on the affecting incident mentioned in Jefferson's notes. The speech, of course, cannot be improved, by the shackles of the octo-syllabic measure. The versification of this poem is generally correct; and some descriptive parts are fair; but there is no new intelligence from Parnassus in it, to the best of our knowledge.-But here is our old friend Doctor M Henry come again, twaddling in heroics about the PLEASURES OF FRIENDSHIP,—and several other things. as far as we can gather from a hasty survey. What will he do next? But he is over the water, publishing his romances for the benefit of Europe; and it would be unfair to pass any judgment upon him, when he is not at home to appeal and recriminate, in "his usual purlite and genteel manner," as Gregory Grunt would express himself. By-the-bye, the Doctor has got out a new novel lately, as we have understood. It is proper that some one should review it. It must be a very interesting work. His iambics are smooth enough, and there is, doubtless, much good poetry in the "Pleasures of Friendship, and other poems." If any of the author's admirers will be kind enough to find it, and leave a memorandum with our publishers, we will treat him--to a set of our journal from the commencement.

The next poem in our catalogue is written by a lady. It makes us feel in a more sober mood. We would hearken to the voice of propriety, which sounds in our ear-" procul, O! procul, este profani"--and we must apologise for the awkward juxtaposition in which the work is accidentally placed: but we cannot forbear expressing our regrets, that the writer seems unhappy; and, as a resource, has applied--not to the fountain of living waters--but to a stream, which, though its origin may be in Castalia, is defiled, and troubled, and made bitter, by the channels in which it has been forced to wander. Mere passion, however intense, unconnected with associations of heroic or virtuous interest in its object. is not a theme calculated to produce a soothing effect on the feelings, while the imagination is running riot in impure impossibilities.

The sensuality of modern poetry may seduce a very innocent fancy; and the inevitable proneness to imitation, will lead a chaste mind to borrow, in its creations, images, whose origin its own simplicity has prevented it from distinctly apprehending. But if, in the exacerbation or apathy of the better feelings, the appetite of the creative power, which strives to substitute dreams for realities, is permitted to feed on fruit forbidden by good taste, as well as sound morality, the faculty itself becomes soon vitiated, and its desires and aspirations sickly and disgusting. It is at first like drinking small drams, and in its end like living upon poison. There is no doubt that the cant of certain modern reviewers, inconsistent as it has been with their own writings and lives, has done more than any thing else, towards giving notoriety to a kind of writing, which the good sense and decency of thought, in the present generation, would have proscribed; had not such oracular tirades of nonsense, and such ludicrous horror at the effusions of the Satanic school, at once excited suspicion of a superiority in the works so weakly assailed, which they did not in fact possess, and a curiosity to examine them, which was illy repaid by its gratification. Where common sense and taste are brought to bear, in an unsophisticated state, upon such productions and such criticisms, they are soon despatched from their consideration, with no very complimentary expedition. But the loves of any devil and any mortal woman, (on one of these gests we believe this poem is founded,) require the management of a superior mind, to be at all tolerable.

On a more rigid scrutiny, and by gazing intently through the dim obscure of this narrative, we have no doubt it is the first fyt of the story of Tobias in the Apocrypha; and contains the particulars of the death of the first of the seven lovers of Anna, (here called Sephora,) who were destroyed on their wedding nights, by the fiend, until Tobias smoked him up the chimney. With all respect to the volume whence it is taken, and to the author, we do not like the subject for poetical purposes. And with sincerity, we trust, and without affectation, we would recommend either to a desolate heart or diseased imagination, the New Testament; in preference to traditions, which have been preserved for reasons of which we know nothing-and to Voltaire's introduction to his Universal History; a volume which contains more no-such-things than any other of the same size, not excepting the Koran, Joe Miller, and the Arabian Nights. If we are taxed with a want of decorum, in thus far venturing our advice, we refer for our justification to the first note to this poem; in which we are told, that "the God who conducted