"E'en this last wretched boon their foes deny, "By felon hands, by one relentless stroke, "Torn from their grasp, and bleeding as they part.' There is much sympathy expressed for black, but not a word is spoken for white slaves. In a short poem, entitled DAN and JANE, is exhibited a religious dispute between a man and his wife, about faith and works, of no merit; but I make the following extract, in contrast with her good works at Blagdon. "How shall you know my creed's sincere, "How shall I know a tree's alive, "Unless I see it bear and thrive? "Your works not growing on my root, 66 They're soul and body, hand and heart, These are the lady's doctrines, "the excellent, the pious" H. More; here is her practice. "You also, Madam, are convicted, by the evidence of the "Rector of Blagdon, of transmitting accusations which you "have refused to substantiate. That you are a secret accuser "is proved and admitted. If these accusations were true, "having proceeded so far, being detected and challenged to "maintain your charge, you are criminal and a compounder "of guilt, in not substantiating and publishing them to the "world." Bere's Address, p. 6. 66 "In this affair nothing of this suavity appears, all is in the gall of bitterness, and fiery indignation. Hot burning zeal, cunning and cruel mixture abhorred." Controv. p. 34. In a poem on SENSIBILITY, with what propriety does the name of Soam Jenyns, however respectable, illustrate the existence of Sensibility, though his least praise should be wit? It was thus by flattery she gained friends and acquaintance, and by artfulness and cunning she preserved them. All the men of letters of the age, especially those of whom she had any acquaintance, are mentioned in this poem, and some incense offered, and she adds, "And while to these I raise the votive line, "O let me grateful own these friends are mine.” Notwithstanding this flattery, she knew well Johnson ranked her with the minor poets. That she was obliged to Garrick the world knows, for he exerted all his power and influence to represent her heavy tragedy, until the audience at last insisted on their discontinuance. His loss she laments with tears "Who now with spirit keen, yet judgment cool, A poem on Sensibility ought to furnish some happy lines; the following are among the best :, "And while Discretion all our views shou'd guide, "Beware, lest secret aims and ends she hide; "Like a firm centinel-to guard the heart; "The world's wise man is more than half a knave. "Prompt sense of equity! to thee belongs Eager to serve, the cause perhaps untried, "But always apt to chuse the suff'ring side! "So exclamations, tender tones, fond tears, "And all the graceful drapery Feeling wears; "These are her garb, not her, they but express "Her form, her semblance, her appropriate dress; "And these fair marks, reluctant I relate, "These lovely symbols may be counterfeit." The following lines are remarkably characteristic of her conduct in the Blagdon business. "The hint malevolent, the look oblique, "The obvious satire, or implied dislike; "The sneer equivocal, the harsh reply, "And all the cruel language of the eye; "The artful injury, whose venom'd dart, "Scarce wounds the hearing, while it stabs the heart; "The guarded phrase, whose meaning kills, yet told "The list❜ner wonders, how you thought it cold." SIR ELDRED of the BowER Sounds well in the title, but it is nothing. The BLEEDING ROCK, is a poem founded on a real story, well known in the neighbourhood. A gentleman near Bristol, fell in love with a lady of that city, declared his passion, was listened to, and they went to church three different times, but always returned re infecta. Miss More thought proper, from her knowledge of the tale, to throw it into rhyme. The lady is metamorphosed into a stone, from which issues a crimson stream. It is said, that near Failand, there really is a spring from a rock, the water of which from the nature of the soil is red. The disappointment the lady must have felt, being so trifled with, is well and naturally enough imagined, of whom she says pathetically, that he "Cou'd act the tenderness he never felt, "In sorrow soften, and in anguish melt. "The sigh elaborate, the fraudful tear, "The joy dissembled, and the well-feigned fear, "The conquest once atchiev'd, the brightest fair, "When conquer'd, was no longer worth his care." Under the agonies of dereliction, the damsel is supposed to sing "Then hasten, righteous powers! my tedious fate, "Shorten my woes and end my mortal date: "Quick, let your power transform this failing frame, "Let me be any thing but what I am!” The lady now transformed into a stone, the faithless Polydore visits his petrified Ianthe, and plunging a dagger into his own side, which struck also the rock, from the collision issued the purpureous spring. Thus the legend of the well, and the true story so modern and so well known, furnish her with materials for a short poem, in the description of the circumstances of which, she displays more genuine feeling than in any other. Her ODE to DRAGON, Mr. Garrick's housedog, is a misnomer. The idea is grovelling, and the poem too long for an ode. Was there no other method of flattering Mr. and Mrs. Garrick, without being metamorphosed from a cruel stone into a dog of either gender? The Epitaph on C. Dicey, Esq. "O pause! repent, repent, resolve, amend! "Life has no length, eternity no end! I would recommend Mrs. More to get engraved, and to wear on her bracelets as long as she lives. The CARPENTER, although there is much Sternhold and Hopkins in it, I like best of any of her pieces. She has adopted Swift's verse, and Swift's mode of mysterious matrimony; and this in the non-descript phraseology, is called "marrying in the Lord." Compared with women in general, Mrs. More must be allowed merit, but she is far behind the first. With Aspasia, Propertia de Rossi, Madame Rolande, and many of our own country-women, she is not to be named. Her books are ephemeral, of improvisatore merit, and mortal like herself. There is no line I should choose to transcribe for private use, or pleasurable recitation. And when we consider what actions, the atchievement of which her heart has dictated, her merits and supposed excellence vanish with the news of a day. In divine poetry she is altogether unsuccessful, for who excelled in that department. Buchanan, Johnstone, and Watts, and a late collection of psalms and hymns in the dissenting church, is all that can be named, and they are excellent; for the merit of both our old and new version of the psalms is humble. In VILLAGE POLITICS, there are some just remarks; and the endeavour to turn the popular mind from a tendency to riot and rebellion, if ever in this country it had such a bias, was becoming any dutiful subject. But in this little tract, which с |