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"Does matter govern spirit? or is mind

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Degraded by the form to which 'tis join'd?

"No: they have heads to think, and hearts to feel,
"And souls to act, with firm, tho' erring zeal;
"For they have keen affections, kind desires,
"Love strong as death, and active patriot fires;
"All the rude energy, the fervid flame

"Of high-soul'd passion, and ingenuous shame:
"Strong, but luxuriant virtues boldly shoot
"From the wild vigour of a
a savage root.'

The following twelve lines are, in the matter and verse, I believe, original; and if any theme could. inspire, the fate of the noble Qua-shi must awake. "No Muse, O Qua-shi!* shall thy deeds relate,

"No statue snatch thee from oblivious fate!
"For thou wast born where never gentle Muse
"On valour's grave the flow'rs of Genius strews;
"And thou wast born where no recording page
"Plucks the fair deed from Time's devouring rage.
"Had Fortune plac'd thee on some happier coast,
"Where polish'd Pagans souls heroic boast,

*It is a point of honour among negroes of a high spirit to die rather than to suffer their glossy skin to bear the mark of the whip. Qua-shi had somehow offended his master, a young planter, with whom he had been bred up in the endearing intimacy of a play-fellow. His services had been faithful; his attachment affectionate. The master resolved to punish him, and pursued him for that purpose. In trying to escape, Qua-shi stumbled and fell; the master fell upon him; they wrestled long with doubtful victory; at length Qua-shi got uppermost, and, being firmly seated on his master's breast, he secured his legs with one hand, and with the other drew a sharp knife; then said, "Master, I have been bred up with you from a child; I have loved you as myself: in return, you have condemned me to a punishment of which I must ever have borne the marks -thus only I can avoid them:"so saying, he drew the knife with all his strength across his own throat, and fell down dead, without a groan, on his master's body. Ramsay's Essay on the treatment of African Slaves.

"To thee, who sought'st a voluntary grave, "Th' uninjur'd honours of thy name to save, "Whose generous arm thy barbarous master spar'd, "Altars had smok'd, and temples had been rear'd." Pious and scrupulous as H. More professes herself to be, we yet see that her religion, to use her own words, is "a convenient one," and that if it favours poetry, any thing can be got by or made of the idea, she has no objection to employ the Pagan mythology, nor to express her approbation of selfmurder, which is called a "fair deed." Whatever may be said of the Pagan mythology, which indeed has afforded elegant subjects for the fine arts, I am not so happy as others by invariably approving of it. Pure philosophy, the boundless circuit of nature, genuine history, sacred and profane, afford abundant subjects equally for the poet as the painter and statuary, without any recourse to fable.--But, as she has it," Poets, indeed, to do them jus"tice, are always ready for any mischief."

The following passage is the information laid before the House of Commons, thrown into verse. There is no poetry; but my extracts are the best the volume can furnish.

"Whene'er to Afric's shores I turn mine eyes,
"Horrors of deepest, deadliest guilt arise;
"I see, by more than Fancy's mirror shewn,
"The burning village, and the blazing town:
"See the dire victim torn from social life,
"The shrieking babe, the agonizing wife!

She, wretch forlorn! is dragg'd by hostile hands,
"To distant tyrants sold, in distant lands!
"Transmitted miseries, and successive chains,
"The sole sad heritage her child obtains!

"E'en this last wretched boon their foes deny,
"To weep together, or together die.

66

By felon hands, by one relentless stroke,

"See the fond links of feeling Nature broke!

"The fibres twisting round a parent's heart, "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.

know my

creed's sincere,

"How shall you know
"Unless in works my faith appear?

"How shall I know a tree's alive,

"Unless I see it bear and thrive?

"Your works not growing on my root,
"Wou'd prove they were not genuine fruit.
"If faith produce no works, I see,
"That faith is not a living tree.

"Thus faith and works together grow,'

"No separate life they e'er can know :

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They 're soul and body, hand and heart,

"What God hath join'd let no man part."

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.

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"In this affair nothing of this suavity appears, all is in the gall of bitterness, and fiery indignation. Hot burning zeal, 66 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,
"The errors of my orphan muse shall rule ?"

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;

"Tho' midst the croud of virtues, 'tis her part,
"Like a firm centinel-to guard the heart;
"Beware, lest Prudence self become unjust,
"Who never was deceiv'd, I wou'd not trust;
"Prudence must never be suspicion's slave,

"The world's wise man is more than half a knave.

"Prompt sense of equity! to thee belongs "The swift redress of unexamin'd wrongs! "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 "The artful injury, whose venom'd dart,

eye;

"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.

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