Advice to Julia, on Dress. Allure the eye, but never gain the heart!' Art. 17. Relics of Melodino; translated by Edward Lawson, Esq. from an unpublished Manuscript, dated 1645. 8vo. pp. 244. Ios. 6d. Boards. Baldwin and Co. 1815. The title-page of this volume excited, in course, our suspicions that the stale and not very ingenious fiction of the age had been adopted; and that we had here another Lauder, or Macpherson, or Chatterton, or Ireland: but an examination of the preface, in which sundry Spanish scholars, and among others Mr. Southey, are said to have been consulted, and in which we discover evident marks of a mind not inconsiderately exercised in collateral inquiries, convinced us that, if there be any imposition, the author of the volume is among the persons deceived. Yet no such name as Melodino is to be discovered in the history of Spanish or Portuguese literature, if such a distinction can be made in the Peninsula; and, since the author gives no reasons for receiving it as a real title, but merely states his own bias in favour of that opinion, we must be regarded as by no means professing to criticize a translation from a real original of the 17th century. However this may be, considerable merit is displayed in some of the thoughts scattered through these pages; and, although the translator's versification be somewhat cramped, and his phraseology rather forced, he has yet transfused or created an energy on some occasions, and an elegance on others, which distinguish the work from many of its ephemeral brethren. Several of the anachronisms, particularly in the 'Tears of Dido,' (the first poem in the volume, are sufficiently in unison with the age and nation assigned to the poet. For instance; at Carthage, in the time of Dido, 'Jove himself the work of Phidias fears; and we are told of the Greek Armada:'—although this may be allowable but whether it be in very good taste is another question. We quote some pretty lines intitled Warnings for Beauty:' P 2 • The The sun declines in curtained shade: Where fluted jasper shone display'd, By creeping ivy now upborne, Swings, like a culprit wretch, high hung in chains of scorn. That Bark, so proud with silken vanes, Anon a helpless wreck remains. Those Waves, that thunder'd on the strand, Now gently lick the glistening sand. Thus Time (our foe, and even his own,) To universal change is prone; · He flies: nor boots it to pursue. Quick! seize him, Phillis! ere he seize on you.' The preface, as we have intimated, displays Spanish and Portuguese scholarship; and the notes have fresh recommendations of a similar nature. Art. 18. Sir Bertram, a Poem, in Six Cantos. By J. Roby. 8vo. pp. 195. 78. Boards. Baldwin and Co. 1815. This is a poem which we can conscientiously recommend to any nursery-maid who has the care of a restless child. There is a something so irresistibly soothing and monotonous in the flow of the versification, with such a delightful unawakening hackneyism of incident and character throughout, that even the irritation of nettlerash, or the acute agonies of teeth-cutting, must yield to this anodyne composition. Far to the west the blue mist sunk away, The sun had brighten'd every hill so gay, The pearly dew-drop sparkled bright, On many a leaf, and flower so fair; The violet sweet had woo'd the light, And shed fresh fragrance thro' the morning air.' Page 33. We can present to our readers only a few more detached beauties of Sir Bertram,' and then must bid adieu to that gentle publication; which which is far from arousing the uneasy species of curiosity and almost painful interest that were excited by its namesake," Sir Bertram," of "Elegant Extracts" memory. In one point, indeed, we could have wished that the tales had borne a closer resemblance; and that the latter, by breaking off at the second canto instead of extending to the sixth, had deserved, like the former, the honourable and attractive title of "a Fragment." At page 16. (which we would advise the nursery-maid to omit, from its accidental noisiness,) Discord tremendous rear'd Her bloodstain'd banner waving high; Did not a poet of the name of Campbell, in a work intitled "Pleasures of Hope," observe some few years since in a similar manner on the (somewhat bombastic) horrors of the scene, "Where murder bar'd her arm?" &c. &c. and when we read, page 19. that The crackling faggots fly,' are we mistaken in attributing to one Goldsmith a line of some similarity, in an obscure little ballad called "Edwin and Angelina?" "The crackling faggot flies?" At page 21. the hero flings the heroine on the floor: On the slippery floor he flings A form in female garments dress'd.' At page 22. The waking warriors rub their eyes.' This is being true to Nature, in a most exemplary manner. • The cheerful day-light flees.' At page 35. we have ' enthron'd' rhyming to 'land.' At page 40. 'Perception fled;" and, being afraid of the consequences, we must here close the volume in a mixture of distraction, doubt, and despair. Art. 19. Poems, by Mr. Alfred Bunn. 8vo. pp. 43. Chapple. 1816. The Dedication, the Preface, and the Introduction to these poems are so unique, that we consider each as a Phoenix in its kind. The cheerful strain of reasonable panegyric adopted in the first, the easy frankness of the second, and the naturel of the third, exceed all rivalry and all description. We beg leave, therefore, to transcribe P 3 scribe the whole three for the amusement and the edification of our readers; and we need not add for their imitation also, should any of them be afflicted with the sacer ignis, or St. Anthony's Fire, of Publication. < Sir, • Dedication to Leigh Hunt, Esq. * It is with feelings of peculiar delight, and equal satisfaction, I intrude upon the public attention, and your more valuable time, the subjoined trifles; and, as it would be impossible to detail, in this confined limit, my every delicacy of sentiment on the subject, I shall devote that pleasurable task to the calm recluse of private intercourse. Under this impulse, I shall indulge, in very prescribed terms, upon my views. When I survey the extensive hemisphere of literature, where I presume to fix my feeble effulgency, I am dazzled by the brilliant array that surrounds me on every side; yet, gazing with proud surprize on the partial gleaming of one of its brightest constellations, I am encouraged to glance forth, with less reserve, under so auspicious a reflection. But even in this revolution of thought amidst these doubts and fears, so naturally incidental to a youthful mind, I dare to rise-superior to them all. To you, alone, I owe that pleasing satisfaction-to you, who have, thus, introduced me unknowing and unknown—and invested me with the great sanction - the valuable privilege — of subscribing myself, very sincerely, • London, March 23. 1816.' • Your obliged and obedient Servant, • Preface. Having waded, with some degree of difficulty, through the compositions-proofs revises-and other enigmatical arrangements, of my publisher and myself, we have, at last, by mutual assistance, collected the whole together, as here introduced. As it is not my intention to make any apologies to the Public, or any concessions to those Literary Presidencies, which may intend to honour me with their reviews, I shall be brief in my observations. The trifles, here brought forward, are, as must appear from an impartial perusal of them, the productions of a fanciful and very young man they are published at the desire of a few individuals, whose kindness in the request was probably as foolish, as my vanity in the compliance therewith; yet, in gaining their good opinion and estimation, I have reached the zenith of my ambition. Whatever lenity or partiality the unknown reader may shew me, will be my sole instigation to make a future intrusion upon him * We believe that we omitted, in our review of "The Story of Rimini," (Art. III. of this Number,) to notice Mr. Hunt's dedi❤ cation of that poem to Lord Byron. For easy frankness,' it may perhaps vie with the preface of Mr. Alfred Bunn. Rev. and and what may be his opinion, or the consequences arising therefrom, must be left to the sequel. "This is all I have to offer upon the subject. Introduction. By Nature planted and by Nature rear'd — A humble flow'ret woos the summer-beam! Oh, let it bloom its short-liv'd-languid day- A. B.' The sagacious reader may easily guess the contents of a book which is thus ushered into the world. Art. 20. Verses for Grave-Stones in Church Yards. By a Parish Minister. 8vo. Nos. I. and II. 2s. 6d. Baldwin and Co. If the poetical pieces, with which Pope recorded the virtues of his departed friends, were justly termed "Epitaphs to let," we have here a very large assortment of the same species of rhymes, adapted to every description of customer; insomuch that it is scarcely possible for any person, of whatever rank, age, or station, to meet his end in any assignable variety of form or circumstance, without his friends being able immediately, by a consultation of the index prefixed to these pages, to find the whole history of the fatal event, with the character of the deceased, faithfully delineated. Should a luckless youth, for instance, chance to be precipitated out of a boat into the stream, the first page of the index will refer to p. 16. for an epitaph on A young Man drowned in a River. O had this youth the art of swimming learnt, This is not much better than the old nursery-poetry about the Three Children sliding on the Ice; and if the reverend author intended to prevent the occurrence, now much too frequent, of paltry and even ridiculous epitaphs, by furnishing a good stock out of which those who needed a supply might chuse, we may approve his object but cannot compliment him on the execution of it. Those who examine the epitaphs in country-church-yards are too often led to regret that the precepts of morality, and the awful truths of religion, which should always be clothed in language the most forcible and striking, are on these occasions placed in danger of losing their beneficial effect, by appearing in a contemptible or a ludicrous form. In such cases, we are obliged to recollect the well known lines, "To laugh were want of decency and grace, |