the theory of vifion, with the feveral fpecies of imperfe&t fight. The treatife is executed both with knowlege and judgment, and we know not therefore a more valuable compendium on the fubject.

Free Obfervations on the Scurvy, Gout, Diet, and Remedy, &c. By Francis Spilbury. 8vo. 2s. 6d. Wilkie.

This pamphlet, like each of those that have formerly appeared under the name of this noftrum-monger, abounds with that bombaftic declamation, and falfe glare of fcience, with which ignorance and empiricifm always endeavour to feduce the credulity of the vulgar. Cures, cafes, certificates, &c. are added in abundance; and even the Mufe is proftituted to confirm the recommendation of Spilfbury's drops.

POETRY.

The State Mountebank; or Duke and no Duke. A Tale. 4to. 15. Fielding and Walker.

This mountebank fells as vile drugs, and talks as much nonfenfe, as any of his itinerant brethren. His bolufes, made up into about two hundred very bad verses, and wrapped in a twelvepenny pamphlet, have made us very fick. If our readers, however, have a mind to taste them, here are two or three for a specimen.

Among the croud

(of patriots, we fuppofe, our author means; for it is difficult to find out what or whom he aims at)

Of grievances they roar'd aloud,
Of gripings-univerfal gripings!
Petitions fcarce fupply'd their w-p-ngs
Ev'n the long York, fo faft they scour,
Sign'd and endors'd in half an hour,
Their fundamental forrows blazon'd,
A pofteriori prov'd and reason'd.
No ailment could his art fuggeft,
But what they felt, or feign'd, at least,
"Gods! we are running out apace,"
Re-echo'd now from place to place;
And who but he fhall stop and cure
The national expenditure?

Yeomen and Gem'men, boys and burgers

Affociations form of purgers;

Now here, now hence, and now beyond hence,

Extends the civet correfpondence,

And many a town and county hall,

But W-fm-mit-r above them all,
Polluted by the poison'd band,

Stinks a vile jakes around the land.'

If any gentleman chooses to apply to the doctor for farther ad

vice, he may be heard of, we imagine, at Meff. Fielding and Walker's, the publishers, in Pater-nofter Row.

An

An Epifle to the right hon. John Earl of Sandwich, &c. A Poem. 4to. 1. 6d. Rivington.

The mere effufion of gratitude, warm from the heart of some honest man whom lord Sandwich has obliged, and who has no more idea of poetry than the paper which he writes upon. He is, however, a good Englishman, and wishes well to his country, as fufficiently appears from the following lines:

• Shall the bright Roman in this distant age,
Eclipfe the glories of the British page ?

And they who drink fair Thames's waters, bow
Lefs brave than they, who walk the banks of Po?
Thanks to the Gods! ftill glows the British fire
With all the virtue Freedom can infpire.'

Long in his peaceful den, fupinely laid,
The British Lion flept beneath the fhade;
No more his claws in reeking gore were dy'd,
No more the victim ftruggled by his fide;
But now the piercing fun finds out his bed,
The fun of glory fets above his head;

He wakes, he moves, at length he deigns to rise,
And vivid fury fparkles from his eyes;

From the deep foreft fee him bend his way,

He roars, he thakes his tail, and watches for his prey.'

The circumftance mentioned in the last line, of the British lion fbaking his tail, is truly poetical!

There are feveral fine ftrokes of the fame nature in this poem, which, without farther animadverfion, we fhall leave to the contemplation of our readers.

Elegy on Captain Cook. To which is added an Ode to the Sun. By Mifs Seward. 4to. 1s. 6d. Dodfley.

There is a pathetic tenderness in this Elegy, joined to a perfuafive harmony of numbers, that diftinguishes it from every performance which we have hitherto feen on this melancholy fubject. The fair writer, who has a fine glow of fancy, has availed herself of the Captain's firt voyage, and improved fome parts of it into moft striking and agreeable pictures. The fol lowing lines convey feveral beautiful images, highly adorned by the charms of poetry.

• On a lone beach a rock-built temple ftands,
Stupendous pile! unwrought by mortal hands;
Sublime the ponderous turrets rife in air,
And the wide roof bafaltic columns bear;

Thro' the long aisles the murm'ring tempests blow,
And Ocean chides his dafhing waves below.
From this fair fane, along the filver fands,
Two filter-virgins wave their fnowy hands;

A rock-built temple." On one part of this ifle there was a solitary rock, rifing on the coaft with arched cavities, like a majestic temple."

F 3

Firft

First gentle Flora-round her smiling brow
Leaves of new forms, and flow'rs uncultur'd glow;
Thin folds of vegetable filk, behind,

*

Shade her white neck, and wanton in the wind;
Strange sweets, where'er the turns, perfumes the glades,
And fruits unnam'd adorn the bending fhades.
-Next Fauna treads, in youthful beauty's pride,
A playful kangros bounding by her fide;
Around the nymph her beauteous || Pois difplay
Their varied plumes, and trill the dulcet lay;
A giant-bat, with leathern wings outspread,
Umbrella light, hangs quiv'ring o'er her head.
As o'er the cliff her graceful ftep the bends,
On glit'ring wing her infect-train attends.
With diamond-eye her fcaly tribes furvey

Their goddess-nymph, and gambol in the spray."

This is fine painting. The whole poem is indeed elegant and pleafing, and as fuch we recommend it to our readers perufal. If departed fouls were confcious of that praise which is bestowed on them, what pleasure would it give the intrepid adventurer to read the verfes of a Seward! Happy Cook, to be thus celebrated, and thus lamented!

An Ode to the Memory of the late Captain James Cook. By W Fitzgerald, of Gray's Inn. 4to. is. Robinson,

Ode-writing is a fpecies of compofition which not one in ten thousand ever did or will fucceed in. Mr. W. Fitzgerald of Gray's Inn has no idea of it; for though this little poem is la

+Firf gentle Flora.Flora is the goddess of Modern Botany, and Fauna of modern Zoology: hence the pupils of Linnæus call their books Flora Anglica-Fauna Danica, &c.-" The Flora of one of these islands contained thirty new plants."

Vegetable filk.-In New-Zealand is a flag of which the natives make their nets and cordage. The fibres of this vegetable are longer and stronger than our hemp and flax; and fome, manufactured in London, is as white and gloffy as fine filk. This valuable vegetable will probably grow in our climate.'

A playful kangroo.-The kangroo is an animal peculiar to thofe climates. It is perpetually jumping along on its hind legs, its fore legs being too fhort to be used in the manner of other quadrupeds.'

Beauteous Pois. The poi-bird, common in thofe countries, has feathers of a fine mazarine blue, except thofe of the neck, which are of a beautiful filver grey; and two or three fhort white ones, which are in the pinion joint of the wing. Under its throat hang two little tufts of curled white feathers, called its poies, which, being the Otaheitean word for ear rings, occafioned our giving that name to the bird; which is not more remarkable for the beauty of its plumage, than for the exquifite melody of its note."

A Giant-bat.-The bats which Captain Cook faw in fome of thefe countries were of incredible dimenfions, measuring three feet and an half in breath, when their wings were extended.'

boured

boured fecundum artem, and finished, as the author no doubt imagines, to the highest degree of perfection, it gave us no kind of pleasure in the perufal, being throughout

Correctly cold and regularly dull.'

We will give our readers, however, what we really thought the beft part of the Ode, and let them judge for themfelves. The poet fpeaking of Captain Cook's crew, fays,

'Tis theirs the lab'ring bark to guide, Unbaffled by the fleety winds or crushing tide➡ Loft in doubt, in darkness loft,

See a bold tumultuous ho

In defp'rate agony demand

Their former joys, their native land;
With mingled elements combine

To wreck their leaders heav'n-inspir'd defigna
Self-armed thefe the fhock fuftain

Till bland fuccefs

Shall make furrounding horrors lefs,

And to her glowing hopes difmay's defection gain." Sleety rain we have often heard of, but fleery winds is a new idea, which we cannot rightly comprehend; nor do we at all approve the expreffion in the laft line, of difmay'd defection, which, in our opinion, is extremely ftiff, and rather unintelligible. We refer those who are defirous of feeing more, to the Ode itself, if they choose to confult it, and we wish, though we cannot promife them, much entertainment.

Love Elegies, by a Sailor. Written in the Year 1774. 4to. Is. 6d.

Wilkie.

All that we can learn from thefe Elegies is, that the author was violently in love with Delia, but, unfortunately for him, always unfuccefsful. We are afraid he was fo imprudent as to fhew her his verses.

Fugitive Pieces. Written by J. P. Kemble. Small 8vo. 15. 6d. Fielding and Walker.

-

Mr. Kemble informs us, in a fhort preface to these poems, which are all comprifed in a fmall pamphlet, that he published them because some very imperfect and incorrect copies, difperfed amongst his friends, had crept into the world; and that he therefore collected only thofe of which he had given copies, as far as remembrance permitted him. This is a modeft apology for a publication which, to fay the truth, did not ftand in need of any; as these little pieces, though not of the first rank or form in poetry, are by no means contemptible. They confift principally of fhort compliments, fongs, and occafional prologues. The Picture of Helen, and the Circaffian, have no inconfiderable fhare of merit; and the following tribute of friendship will, we believe, give our readers pleasure in the perufal.

1

Ode to the Memory of Mr. Inchbald.
• What time the weak-ey'd owl, on twilight wing
Slow borne, her vefper fcream'd to Eve, and rouz'd
The lazy wing of bat

With beetle's fullen hum,

Friendship, and the, the maid of penfive mien,
Pale Melancholy point my forrowing steps
To meditate the dead,

And give my friend a tear.

Here let me paufe-and pay that tear I owe:
Silent it trickles down my cheek, and drops
Upon the recent fod

That lightly clafps his heart,

But ah! how vain-Nor flatt'ry's pow'r, nor wealth's.
Nor friendship's tear, nor widow'd Anna's voice,
Sweet as the harps of heav'n,

Can move the tyrant Death.
Hence ye impure !-for hark-around his grave
The Sifters chaste, the Sifters whom he lov'd,
In nine-fold cadence

Chaunt immortal harmony.
'Tis done 'tis done-the well-earn'd laurel fpreads
Its verdant foliage o'er his honour'd clay:

Again the Mufes fing

Thalia's was the deed.

Thou honest man, farewel!-I wou'd not stain
Thy worth with praise-yet not the bright-hair'd king,
Who wooes the rofy morn,

And weft'ring fkirts the sky

With ruddy gold and purple, e'er shall fee

Thy likeness-nor yon paly Crescent call

Her weeping dews to kiss

A turf more lov'd than thine.

A Letter from Mrs. Straightforward to her Son Timmy. 4to. 15. Rivington.

It would be cruel to torture our readers with a fingle line from fuch a wretched production.

The Incredible Bore: A familiar Epiftle; from Roger Wittol, Esq. to Mr. John Hedgings. 4to. 1s. 6d. Kearfly.

Eighteen-pennyworth of nonfenfe from an Oxford buck to his friend in the country. The following lines may serve to fhew what our readers must expect from the whole,

I met Billy Dafher, who afk'd me to dine
At Wood's with a party, confifting of nine,
All devilish good fellows to go to the play,
Take the rounds, make a row, and fo finish the day.
What a bore, to refufe invitations fo good;

To cut fuch fine fellows, rich wine, and choice food,
With your banker to plead a bad lounge, or attorney,
And the wretched fatigue of a Lombard-street journey,
Which looks not, indeed, quite so much like a lye,
As to bore with lord North on that curfed fupply

But