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Warburton avers that they contain not only the moft fublime, but the most judicious imagery that poetry can conceive.

We shall conclude this sketch with an enumeration of his plays, which were publifhed in the following order.

1. Nero, Emperor of Rome. 1675.

2. Sophinifba, or Hannibal's Overthrow. 1676. The prologue by Dryden.

3. Gloriana, or the Court of Auguftus Cafar. 1676.

4. The Rival Queens; or, The Death of Alexander the Great, 1677.

5. Mithridates, King of Pontus. 1678. Dryden.

The Epilogue by

6. Theodofius; or The Force of Love. 1680.

7. Cafar Borgia. 1680. The prologue by Dryden.

8. Lucius Junius Brutus. 1681. Forbidden, fays Gildon, after the third performance, by Lord Chamberlain Arlington, as an anti-monarchical play.

9. Conftantine the Great, 1684. The prologue by Otway, who died in 1685. The epilogue by Dryden.

10. The Princefs of Cleves. T. 1689. Prologue by Dryden. 11. The Maffacre of Paris. 1690.

Befides the 2d, 4th, and 5th acts of Oedipus, 1679, and the 2d, 3d, half the 5th, and all but the 1ft fcene of The Duke of Guife.

SIR,

TO THE EDITOR OF THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY.

BY inferting these borrowed articles in your ANTHOLOGY, you will gratify myself, and, I prefume, many others.

EOLIAN HARP.

C.

As nothing can be deemed natural, but what proceeds from

the actual principles of nature, we may fafely pronounce the EOLIAN LYRE to be the only natural inftrument of emitting harmony. Other inftruments, fending forth founds by the affiftance of the fingers, or by fome other mechanical means, are con

fequently termed artificial. This affords another inftance of the old established adage, that fimplicity is the nearest relative of beauty, fince the EOLIAN HARP is the "most musical, most melancholy," and bewitching of all melodies.

Of the antiquity of this inftrument it is difficult to decide. It had flept about an hundred years, when Mr. OSWALD accidentally discovered the effect of the air upon a harp cafually hung amongst the boughs of a tree. KURCHER is the first, who mentions it; but he does not, as has been advanced, afcribe the invention to himself. He merely defcribes it, and affirms,* that the reafon of his being fo particular respecting it, is because no one had given an account of it before. It may in our opinion boaft a very high antiquity. The effect of the wind upon ftrings placed flantingly, has been obferved in most ages, and has always afforded a particular delight. An anecdote from Lucian will illuftrate this remark, "When the Thracian Bacchanals tore ORPHEUS piecemeal, report fays, that his harp was thrown into the river HEBRUS, with his bleeding head upon it. The harp, touched by the wind, breathed forth a folemn train. Still fwimming down the Egean fea, the mournful concert arrived at Lesbos, where the inhabitants taking them up, buried the head in the spot, where in Lucian's time, stood the temple of Bacchus, and hung the Lyre in the temple of Apollo."

It would be impoffible not to believe the romantic circum. ftance of the ftatue of Memnon, which

at the quivering touch

Of Titan's ray, with each repulfive string

Confenting, founded through the trembling air

Unbidden ftrains,

when fupported by fuch authorities, as Pliny, Juvenal, Paufanias and Strabo. The fact is too well authenticated to be doubted.

The art, by which it was managed, still remains an ænigma, notwithstanding St. Pierre's ingenious folution. We are to confider, in the first place, that the founds were not emitted from the mouth of the statue in the morning only; authority states that

* De fympathiae et antipathiae fonorum ratione, 1. 9.

they proceeded likewise at other times. The morning was however the more favourable, as the foft breezes, which rise at the dawn of day from the Nile, might catch certain strings artfully placed in the throat of the image, and cause them to fend forth those plaintive melodies, which the ancients fo frequently mention. Defcending to a later period, we find Offian observing the fame enchanting effect.

"The blast came rustling through the hall, and gently touched my harp; the found was mournful and low, like the fong of the tomb."-Darthula.

Again in Berrathon :

"My harp hangs on the blafted branch; the found of its ftrings is mournful. Does the wind touch thee, O harp! Or is it fome paffing ghost?"

Whatever be its age, it is a moft enchanting inftrument, and bringing out all the tones in full concert, fometimes finking them to the fofteft murmurs, and feeling for every tone, by its gradations of strength, it folicits thofe gradations of sound, which art has taken fuch various methods to produce:*

The influence of this inftrument upon the heart is truly pleafing. It disposes the mind to folemn, tender and pathetic ideas; and winning upon the imagination, strikes the heart with its fimplicity, and leaves it refting in all the pure delights of a pleafing melancholy. Dr. Beattie tells us of a friend, who was profoundly fkilled in the theory of mufic, well acquainted with the animal economy, and fingularly accurate in his inquiries into nature, and who affured him, that he had feveral times been wrought into a feverish fit by the tones of an Eolian Harp. The poets emulate in defcribing its sweetness and delicacy. Cafimir's exquifite ode, "AD SUAM TESTUDINEM," beginning, "Sonori buxi filia," &c. &c. must surely allude to it; and Thom fon has given us a beautiful account in his Castle of Indolence.

SONNET.

Mufic of nature! Emblem of each sphere!
How sweetly tranquil does my penfive foul,
At coming eve, thy warbling murmurs hear,
When footh'd to tenderness thy measures roll

Acoustics. Chap.

Sometimes more loud, and now yet louder ftill;
Sometimes more distant, and again more near;
Waking foft echoes, and with magic skill,
Swelling the eye with a luxurious tear.
Delightful flutterings! hov'ring mid the sky,
Mildly reluctant, on wild pinions borne
To realms of Sylphs, that on your murmurs fly,
And, wak'd to melancholy feelings, mourn.
Sweet, penfive melody! etherial strain,
Ah! ftill afpire to footh each rifing pain.

"I TOUCH the hand of the perfon next me," fays Werter, "I feel it is made of wood."-Alas! how often in the commerce of the world does one find this hand of wood! and how often in the courtefies of life !-Offer your hand to Candidus; and he holds out one finger. Offer it to Clericus; he perhaps coldly gives you two. Prætor gives you his whole hand; but it is wood-wood indeed. While Benevolus with his hand at once meets yours.----There is heart and foul in the compreffion; there is friendship in the very touch!

SINCE money has become the fign of our wants, and their exchange, every thing muft neceffarily be fold and purchased. The general, the officer and the foldier fell their limbs and lives; and what are taxes, excife and duties, but the wages of our governors? Why then fhould an author be afhamed to fell his works? Why fhould it be thought, that fame fhould be the only falary of a writer? Why fhould an author be ashamed to fell his discoveries, or to fet a price upon his own ideas? And why fhould a people collectively receive, gratis, leffons and advice, for which they must pay a price as individuals?

I HAVE a friend, who is an ingenious man, a good chriftian, and a private foldier. I attended him one evening to chapel. The preacher was no Cicero ; and I asked him what he thought of his fentences. He replied; "in liftening to the truths of religion, I never feel inclined to halt with criticism."

THE ANTHOLOGY.

Original Poetry.

THE VAGRANT.

VIEW, ye fons of eafe and fortune,

While you glitter on the road,
Yonder Vagrant low reclining,
Sunk beneath affliction's load.
Even the tree in friendly whisper
Bids him fleep in calm repofe ;-
Even the tender birds in pity
Softly fing to lull his woes.

By your founding wheels awaken'd,
Round he fadly looks and fighs;
Still a foul, that strives with forrow,
Glimmers through his hollow eyes.

Stay, ye ftrangers to affliction,
Hear the darken'd deeds of fate!
Listen to his mournful story;
Learn what ills on life await.

In his artlefs, dire narration,
He this folemn truth may show;
Virtue, on this vale of wonders,
Often bears feverest wo.

Open then your hearts to pity,
To her fweet beheft incline;
Let the grief appeafing feraph
Ever plead with voice divine.

He may tell this tale of trouble:
"Hope and fancy once I knew;

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