character. The delightful and impressive] He was not found to be happy in himself, or genuineness of that character is perceived, communicate lasting happiness to another; felt, and acknowledged, by all poetical read- his heart was feverish, and his brain giddy; ers, at least by those who are not too eccen- he had too much sensibility, and too little tric to speak their minds fairly and candid-discretion. He was an honest man, with ly. very little moral virtue; and a truly good Christian, without knowing himself to be so. His errors were more of the head than the heart; and, at the period he died, the world could have better spared a better man.' He sleeps in peace; and we end his Wanderings in the lines of a bard, who loved him living, and lamented him dead :--"Oh! may the prayer for misery's child Ascend to Him whose power can save; And Heaven's dread sentence pass as mild As sweeps the night-wind o'er thy grave." The author of the "Task" is one of the very few writers whom I should at once confidently pronounce a naturally-gifted poet, -a poet as superior in all essential respects to Pope, as Shakespeare to Shirley, or Byron to Darwin.* * We disagree with the writer; "in all essential respects" Cowper is superlatively inferior to Pope.-Ed. Lit. Gaz. CRITICAL NOTICES. From the Lond. Crit. Gazette. Wanderings of Childe Harolde; a Romance of Real life. Illustrated with Memoirs of the English Wife, and various other celebrated Characters. By John Harman Bedford, Lieut. R. N.-3 vols. 17. 1s. boards. A Final Appeal to the Literary Public relative to Pope. By the Rev. W. L. Bowles, A.M. Hurst, Robinson, and Co. 8vo. pp. 190. GOLDSMITH'S pedagogue who, though vanquished, would argue still, has certainly left a numerous race of decendants, gifted with all the pertinacity and assurance of their illustrious ancestor. Primo avulso, Ir is scarcely necessary to remark, that non deficit alter. But no one of his race apthe "Childe Harolde" of this romance is the pears, in these peculiar excellencies, to surlate Lord Byron. Such of our readers as pass the reverend author of the pamphlet be. delight in the "scandalous chronicles" of the fore us. He is as recalcitrant, if not so inage, will find abundant gratification in the genious, as Walter Shandy himself; and volumes of Lieut. Bedford; for they con- Mr. Roscoe's admirable defence of Pope, in tain most of the anecdotes, amorous, heroic, his late edition of that poet, has again brought and literary, which public rumour has at- forward Mr. Bowles, to attempt a last kick tributed to the extraordinary genius, whose at the bard of Twickenham. We had, in "sayings” and “doings" have recently far- common we believe with most persons, imnished such ample materials for the public agined that the matter was set at rest, and that press; together with some sketches, which, the reverend gentleman's estimate of Pope, to us at least, have the recommendation of as well as his "invariable principles of poetoriginality. The author's opinion of Lord ry," had been fairly consigned to the tomb Byron, and the spirit of the general work, of the Capulets, after the severe and salutamay be at once perceived from the following ry castigation inflicted by Lord Byron. But short extracts, with which the third volume no! we were mistaken. Mr. Bowles is in closes : "Thus ended the wanderings and the loves of Childe Harolde. He drank deep of the cup of misery,-he quaffed long and often from the mantling bowl of pleasure and joy. He luxuriated in love; he looked upon the world as made for man to enjoy, and set no bounds to his pursuits of enjoyment. He did not distinguish between rational and licentious delights. He was the author of all his own misfortunes; by aiming to possess too much, he failed to enjoy the certain little in his power. His fancy was always raising edifices with hopes, and kicking them down in despair. He had a better opinion of the frail part in the female creation than reason justified; he had a worse opinion of mankind than they deserved. All his vices were tinged with the hues of virtue; all his virtues sullied by the gloom of vice. the field again, and, like the renowned Witherington, though his legs are smitten off, he fights upon his stumps. With regard to Mr. B.'s principles of poetry, it is not surprising that he should endeavour to establish such as, if admitted, could entitle even him to the name of a poet. But we fear his case is hopeless. He will never succeed in convincing his readers, either that objects drawn from nature are necessarily poetical, or that those drawn from art are necessarily otherwise. The common consent of mankind, as well as the opinions of the really judicious, sufficiently establish the fact; that the chief beauties found in the highest productions of the poetic art-those confessedly exquisite emananations of human genius "crowned with the laurel of assenting time," originate,—not in descriptions of those parts of nature which form the immediate. objects of our outward senses, and which, when faithfully given and happily expressed, may certainly be numbered among the beauties, though by no means the highest beauties of poetry,-but in an accurate delineation of character, a profound knowledge of human nature; in the judicious adaptation, the appropriate introduction, and the happy combination of objects derived, as the theme requires, both from nature and art, so that "each gives each a double charm ;" in the art evinced in the disposition, and the talent displayed in the execution of the whole. Our readers, we are sure, will not blame us for declining to enter into an analysis of this somnolent piece of criticism, which is not inferior to any of the controversial opiates that have before proceeded from the pen of the same author. It is however but justice in concluding, to thank Mr. Bowles for his kind assurance, that his appeal is final, and his address valedictory. This asrance is as consolatory to us, as it is meritorious to him; and, if he will but adhere to his promise, we freely pardon all the tediousness he has heretofore lavished upon us, in consideration of so cheering a prospect. The Improvisatrice and other poems. By L. E. L. London, 1825. Although this work has been some time before the public, we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of giving it a passing notice. There is so much of the soul of poetry in Miss Landon's strains, she has so much strong sensibility and romantic feeling, she is so young, and yet has written so much and so well, that we cannot withhold this late tribute of applause. The burden of her song is love-indeed of what else, at her age, can woman sing? The theme too is inexhaustible in the hands of our Improvisatrice. She paints in a thousand bright colours all the varieties of devoted and passionate feeling, she glows with all the fervours of affection, and she mourns in all the solitude of despair. The tone of her mind is naturally melancholy, and it mingles in all that she writes-in a majori ty of her poetical tales" the course of truelove" does not " run smooth," it leads to sadness, to ruin, and the grave. We forbear to extract from the volume, but we present our readers with two of her late productions, the first of which is as true a picture of delicate and warm attachment mingled with pride, as was ever painted. VALEDICTORY STANZAS. Thy voice is yet upon mine ear, I cannot lose the tone, Although I know what vanity Has made my heart its own; For well I know I cannot be All thou hast made thyself to me. I flung me on my couch to sleep, But there no slumber came; I caught a sound, then blush'd to think That is the only blush, whose red Had there been one to see. I hear thee nam'd by those who keep I envy them, that they may say I blush not when I hear thy name; And though my heart may break, yet still 'Tis strange, how in things most remote Love will some likeness find; It is as an electric chain Were flung upon the mind- I fly myself, as crowds could steal Scenes in which thou hadst part. Wearied I turn to solitude; But all the dreams are gone, Which once upon my quiet hours Like fairy pageants shone : I feel too vividly, to be I look upon the poet's page, My tear-fill'd eye grows dim; I heard him once their numbers breathe, Farewell! go join the careless world, As gay, as cold, as free; A passing dream, a moment's thought, Is all that I would be. I wish-but that brief glance allow'd, We fling upon an evening cloud, I would not be beloved by thee; I know too well the fate That waits upon the heart, which must Its destiny create. A spirit, passionate as mine, I was not born for happiness; My hopes have been too brilliant fires, Farewell! Yet wherefore say farewell? Kean versus O. P. What can be said for Kean? with a View to future O. P. Occurrences, and a Glance at the Case of Miss Foote. By a Member of the Council of Ancients. 8vo. pp. 32. In this little pamphlet, the "Ancient" proves himself to be but a novice, in endeavouring to adduce arguments against the expression of public feeling, on the subject which has lately interested the Dramatic world. He may as well attempt to check the hearty laugh which humour excites in the mirthful moments of John Bull, or repress his sympathy in a tale of woe, as seek to silence the voice of indignation, which he raises against immorality. The feeling, we trust, is not evinced against the offender, because he is an actor:-but, "it is the cause :"-and we conceive it would be equally evinced against any other offender, The second, although far inferior, is still whose error was as notorious, be his station very pleasing. The fourth stanza is partic-what it might, should an opportunity occur. ularly beautiful in its fancy. I do not wish to wake one tone FAREWELL. L. E. L. One word, although that word may pass With no more care than what the glass One word to breathe of love to thee, I would I were a favourite flower, I would I were a tone of song, A rose's breath, that, borne along, I do not wish thy heart were won ;- If public men please, they do not despise public approbation; if they offend, they must expect public censure. It is a wholesome castigation, and should never be repressed, unless it exceeds its bounds. The ruin of the individual cannot benefit the community, but the character of the public (and we hope we shall ever have reason to respect it,) would be lowered, were even a favorite, who has sinned, to be greeted with the same applause as if he had shown no blemish. Mr. Kean himself will have no reason to regret the hint he has received, that he cannot err with impunity and we shall rejoice if it produces such an effect, that his future conduct will drive from the memory of the most fastidious, the frailty of to-day; and enable them to admire, unmixed with any other feeling, the talents which have raised him to the eminence he holds.-Lond. Crit. Gaz. M. Sgricci, the celebrated Italian improvisatore, having improvised a tragedy, (subject, the death of Mary Stuart) the recitation of which occupied nearly two hours, so delighted the Grand Duke of Tuscany, his family, and court, that H. R. H. not only presented him with 2000 francs, and a pension of 2400 francs per annum, but gave him a patent of nobility of the first order, which his native city, Arezzo, had solicited as the reward of his genius. EPIGRAM. From "Le Ramelet Moundi," by Godelin, a poet who The gay, who would be counted wise, Nor heed they what the wise condemn, Whilst they pass time-Time passes them. FOR THE ten have I slept unsound, because my pro NEW-YORK LITERARY GAZETTE.perty accumulated so rapidly that I could TALES FROM CROSSBASKET. By Francis Topic. PER. "It seems, Sir, you know all. I have some general notions. I do love INTRODUCTION. Ben Jonson. not devise a channel in which to occupy my capital: then felt I the justness of happy Patie's words, "He that hath just enough can soundly sleep, The overcome only fashes folk to keep." My ambition being satisfied, I remitted my money to London, wound up my business, and returned again to dear Scotland. Arrived at my native village, I was introduced to the friends of my youth; we met as strangers, for in the weather-worn face of the man, the features of the boy could AFTER a residence of thirty years in Ameri-be but indistinctly traced; yet, all met me as a bosom friend,-some I knew, or thought I knew, and many I guessed at. My parents did not live to see this day; I had long before been advised of their dissolution, and ca, I returned to my native village ofwith a fortune sufficiently large to satisfy my ambition, and a constitution able to enjoy itthanks to my prudent habits! I had not returned many days till old General Poun-I was an only child: I had therefore few derbolt died. He was owner of a beautiful relations to meet. The circumstance of my estate, called Crossbasket, which had been return soon spread abroad, and their was in possession of his family for a long length not a prating old wife nor lisping, child, of years, though never entailed; but he be- who did not speak of my youthful ading the last of his race on the male side, and ventures and present riches, all of which leaving an only daughter, who was married were magnified beyond even a probability to a gentleman in London, of violent antipa-of truth. I need not name how I was pointthy to Scotland, there was not a doubt but ed at,-how my name furnished tea-table the mansion of the Pounderbolts, would be chat for all the village; which forced Mr. sold to stranger hands. In the beautiful Kingwell, the crier, to confess, that had I walks of Crossbasket, have I loitered away not arrived at the moment I did, the tongues my infantile hours, or fishing in its burn, have of the village gossips would have rusted I spent many a summer day, and many for want of a subject to discourse upon. I a moonlit night have I sat upon the "pil- need not tell how many young ladies blushed low rock" and listened to the sweet sounds as I cast my eyes upon them, or were quite of Calder's waterfall: then, have I often ungirled if I spoke to them; for be it rethought it murmured pleasing tales-it membered I was then unmarried: nor need seemed to speak a language to my soul, deep I say how fond every mother was to have me felt, though inexpressible, and fancy made it at her tea table who had a marriageable whisper many a story of my future weal-daughter to dispose of, nor how many that the days were coming when I could church-going matrons begged to me "to call this delightful place mine own. Then, take a seat in our pew on Sabbath;" not thought I, could I only be called "Laird o' even excepting Mrs. Pulpitwise, the minisCrossbasket, and see my name enrolled in ter's wife; on these things I need not dwell, the annals of the parish," Francis Topic, for every person must imagine more than I Esq., of Crossbasket, like some of the fox-can possibly describe. hunting and rum-drinking nabobs in the The old General 'being dead, a burst of neighbourhood-I would not envy the king joy flashed on my mind; and, I must swear, upon his throne. I had not a thought be- though I seldom do such a thing, that I never yond this; than this, the loftiest flights of went to a wedding with more joy than I folmy imagination_never pictured a greater fe- lowed the old man's remains to the family licity; power, fame, or wealth never had a vault; for then, the thought pressed upon moment of my castle-building hours. The me that all my youthful anticipations might idea of Laird of Crossbasket, constantly now be realized, far beyond a doubt. For haunted my youthful dreams,--was the com- reasons before named, Crossbasket, that panion of many an after-thought, and a fairy land, that paradise of my thoughts, thousand times have I imagined it inspired which my long absence had never effaced, me to speculations and adventures in my would be brought to sale. It was even so. mercantile life, and to various operations, In a short time an advertisement appeared which in calmer moments, I wondered why that it was to be offered at auction. I soon I embarked in. Be the cause what it will, made up my mind to purchase it, and was I made money faster and grew richer than more fascinated by the day of sale, than ever I ever anticipated; it is a remark among the General was by a bombshell. I thought merchants, that every thing some men touch of nothing but Crossbasket, yet I kept still, turns to gold-I was such a man,-and of-nor hinted my intentions to any one. I was sometimes afraid to move or speak, or even vitation to make me a visit, for it was the to breathe, fearful that I would lose the op- summer season. He came. Whoever has portunity of purchasing it, and a thousand been in similar circumstances, may guess forebodings daunted my mind that some in- the pleasure of our meeting: there is a sweet dividual would make an offer at private bliss in grasping the hand of friends of early sale, and thus all my hopes be blasted: on youth, after almost an age of absence. this subject alone was I boy again. I did Many a happy hour did we spend together, not think the old man had so much blood. talking of old times, and laughing at the Shortly before the appointed day, I applied battles we had lost and won, with a thousand to the village attorney, whom I knew well other little things. To add to our pleasure, in my youth, and told him my intention, and one morning, two gentlemen arrived at instructed him to purchase it for me; I gave Crossbasket; in them I recognised two old no limits, and when he asked how much he friends. Mr. Glendining and Mr. Rowardshould bid, I only replied, “buy it for me;" son: the meeting was as happy as unexyet charged him, as he valued my business and patronage, to be silent on the subject, nor even hint until the purchase was made for whom he was bidding. Lawyers want business and understand hints, so he was quiet and faithful to his commission, for he bought Crossbasket at a much cheaper rate than I ever anticipated. Now my heart swelled too high for the bosom which contained it. I was on the highest pinnacle of my ambition-I had nothing farther in worldly affairs to wish for-I was satisfied. But not to detain my readers, if I have any, with too long a story, let me say it in a word. I had my house furnished, the grounds, the gardens, and every thing laid out and arranged to my heart's content, and pected. I felt proud to entertain the friends of my youth: I felt happy that they could see me in my fairy castle, for this was the only one I ever in my day-dreams built. After dinner we took a walk into the arbour, and talked of our adventures; and I learned that we all had been in America, though it was a circumstance unknown to any of us before. Now satisfied as to our present condition, we began to recount old stories, and the hours passed fleet as a dream. No business pressed the departure of my guests, so I told them, that having met after so long an absence, I should not part with them soon, and they were not anxious to deny my request. lawyer, and Mr. Pulpitwise the minister, In the evening Mr. Auldlochtan the came to pay their respects to me; my guests were not unknown to them: We were soon seated over our punch, and for a while the joke and song passed merrily; and Mr. Pulpitwise, who never thought that austerity of countenance, or abstinence from innocent pleasures was a part of the christian creed, enjoyed the time as much as any of us. Suddenly Mr. Pomposity proposed a change in the conversation, and said lower, let us tell our histories and adventures as we did in the arbour, for I have left much untold. in a few weeks found myself comfortably situated in the palace of my youthful aspiring, more comfortably and happily than ever man was before; at least I thought so: and all philosophers assert, that one half, ay more, of the world's pleasures are ideal, and created in our own bosoms. No matter how or why, I care not to inquire, I was -I am the happiest Laird in the country. The fame of my arrival and purchase soon spread about the country, and even reached London, for very soon after this, I received a letter from my old friend Edward Pomposity; he was quite my opposite-a great egotist, though a fine fellow, and I loved him well. Many a hard-fought battle were we engaged in, and many a black eye and bloody nose we gave and received on Saturday afternoons when the school was dismissed for the week, to obtain the mastery. We were in the same class; here also did we strive. Many a long hour have I stolen from my repose poring over my lessons, that I might excel him; he was equally industrious, and as he said himself, a better scholar than I; but he gave me this consolation, that he never knew one approach so near his excellency: this for him, was a great confession, for I never heard him acknowledge that any one, in any thing, ap-colouring to the adventures in which we proached near to him before; though in reality we had many smarter boys than he. I lost not a moment in answering my friend's letter, and giving him a warm in "I "Damn our histories," said my friend, Mr. Glendining, who sat on my right. hate egotism, and from the bottom of my heart despise all egotists." "You are right," said his left-handed neighbour. "That was not intended for me," said Mr. Pomposity; "but for you Mr. Pulpitwise:" but before the doctor of souls had time to reply, Mr. Glendining resumed. “I despise those who ever prate of themselves, those who are ever the heroes of their own story, with boastings of their deeds or misdeeds; we have all enough brains to give a have only been spectators. We have all seen the world as the phrase is; we have been abroad, crossed the stormy seas, sandy deserts, or untrodden forests-we must a |