laboured encomiums upon the particular merit of the work, and the general character and style of the author. This was probably the most fortunate period of his life. He had not, it is truc, attained the summit of his glory, but he was rising in literary reputation every day: and as hope is often more delightful than possession, and there is something more animating to our exertions while we are panting to acquire than when we are labouring to maintain superiority, it was probably in this part of his life that he derived most satisfaction from his pursuits. About this time also we must fix the short date of his domestic comforts, of which, while he alludes to the loss of them, he gives a short but feeling description in his Eclogue to Claudio: Yo vi mi pobre mesa in testimonio, Cercada y rica de fragmentos mios, Dulces y ainargos rios Del mar del matrimonio, Y vi pagando su fatal tributo, De tan alegre bien tan triste luto. "The expressions of the above are very difficult, if not impossible, to translate, as the metaphors are such as none but the Spanish language will admit. The following is rather a paraphrase than a transla tion. I saw a group my board surround, And sure to me, though poorly spread, "T was rich with such fair objects crown'd, Dear bitter presents of my bed! I saw them pay their tribute to the tomb, And scenes so cheerful change to mourning and to gloom. repeated losses. At a more enter prising period of life, he had en deavoured to drown his grief in the noise and bustle of a military life; he now resolved to sooth it in the exercise of devotion. Accordingly, having been secretary to the Inqui sition, he, shortly after became a priest, and in 1609 a sort of honorary member of the brotherhood of St. Francis. But devotion itself could not break in upon his habits of composition; and as he had about this time acquired sufficient reputa tion to attract the envy of his fellow poets, he spared no exertions to maintain his post, and repel the criticisms of his enemies. Among these the Spanish editors reckon the formidable names of Gongora and Cervantes." "Before the death of Cervantes, which happened on the same day as that of Shakspere, the admiration of Lope was become a species of worship in Spain. It was hardly prudent in any author to withhold incense from his shrine, much less to interrupt the devotion of his adherents. Such indeed was their intolerance, that they gravely as serted that the author of the Spon gia, who had severely censured his works, and accused him of igno rance of the Latin language, deserved nothing short of death for such literary heresy. Nor was Lope himself entirely exempt from the irritability which is supposed to attend poets: he often speaks with peevishness of his detractors, and answers their criticisms, some times in a querulous, and sometimes in an insolent tone. The word "Of the three persons who formed this family group, the son died at Vega in Spanish signifies garden. eight years and was soon followed In the title-page of his book was by his mother; the daughter alone engraved, a beetle expiring survived our poet. The spirit of some flowers, which he is upon the Lope seems to have sunk under such point of attacking. That the em blem blem might not be misunderstood, this distich was also subjoined. Audax dum Vega irrumpit scaraba us ip hortos, Fragrantis periit victus odore rosæ. At Vega's garden as the beetle flies, O'erpower'd with sweets the daring insect dies. "The vanity of the above conceit is at least equal to the wit. 66 vels in prose (unsuccessful imitations of Cervantes); Circe, an heroic poem, dedicated to the count duke of Olivarez; and Philomena, a singular but tiresome allegory, in the second book of which he vindicates himself in the person of the nightingale from the accusation of his critics, who are there represented by the thrush. "Such was his reputation that he But in the prologue to the Pele- began to distrust the sincerity of grino, and in some posthumous the public, and seems to have suspoems, he most unreasonably com- pected that there was more fashion plains of the neglect, obscurity, than real opinion in the extravaand poverty in which his talents gance of their applause. This enhave been left. How are the ex-gaged him in a dangerous experipectations of genius ever to be ful- ment, the publication of a poèm But whether filled, if Lope, laden with honours without his name. and with pensions, courted by the the number of his productions had great, and followed by the crowd, gradually formed the public taste imagined that his fortunes were un- to his own standard of excellence, equal to his deserts ? or that his fertile and irregular genius was singularly adapted to the times, the result of this trial confirmed the former judgment of the public; and his Soliloquies to God, though printed under a feigned name, attracted as much notice and secured as many admirers as any of his former productions. Emboldened probably by this success, he dedicated his Corona Tragica, a poem on the queen of Scots, to pope Urban VIII., who had himself composed an epigram on the subject. Upon this occasion he received from that pontiff a letter written in his own hand, and the degree of doctor of theology. Such a flattering tribute of admiration sanctioned the reverence in which his name was held in Spain, and spread his fame through every catholic country. The cardinal Barberini followed him with veneration in the streets; the king would stop to gaze at such a prodigy; the people crowded round him whereever he appeared; the learned and "He seldom passed a year without giving some poem to the press; and scarcely a month or even a week without producing some play upon the stage. His Pastores de Belen, a work in prose and verse on the Nativity, had confirmed his superiority in pastoral poems; and rhymes, hymns and poems without number on sacred subjects had evinced his zeal in the profession he embraced. Philip IV., the great patron of the Spanish theatre, to which he afterwards is said to have contributed compositions of his own, at the era of his accession found Lope in full possession of the stage, and in the exercise of unlimited authority over the authors, comedians, and audience. New honours and benefices were immediately heaped on our poet, and in all probability he wrote occasionally plays for the royal palace. He published about the same time Los Triumphos de la Fe; Las Fortunas de Diana; three no the the studious thronged to Madrid from every part of Spain to see this phoenix of their country this monster of literature;' and even Italians, no extravagant admirers in general of poetry that is not their own, made pilgrimages from their country for the sole purpose of conversing with Lope. So associated was the idea of excellence with his name, that it grew in common conversation to signify any thing perfect in its kind; and a Lope dia. mond, a Lope day, or a Lope woman, became fashionable and familiar modes of expressing their good qualities. His poetry was as advantageous to his fortune as to his fame: the king enriched him with pensions and chaplaincies, the pope honoured him with dignities and preferments: and every nobleman at court aspired to the character of his Mecenas, by confer ring upon him frequent and valuable presents. His annual income was not less than 1500 ducats, exclusive of the price of his plays, which Cervantes insinuates that he was never inclined to forego, and Montalvan estimates at 80,000. He received in presents from individuals as much as 10,500 more. His application of these sums partook of the spirit of the nation from which he drew them. Improvident and indiscriminate charity ran away with these gains, immense as they were, and rendered his life unprofitable to his friends and uncomfortable to himself. Though his devotion gradually became more fervent, it did not interrupt his poetical career. In 1630 he published the Laurel de Apolo, a poem of inestimable value to the Spanish philologists, as they are called in the jargon of our day, for it contains the names of more than 330 Spanish poets and their works. They are introduced as claimants for the Laurel, which Apollo is to bestow; and as Lope observes of himself that he was more inclined to panegyric than to satire, there are few or any that have not at least a strophe of six or eight lines devoted to their praise. Thus the multitude of Castilian poets, which at that time was prodigious, and the exuberance of Lope's pen, have lengthened out to a work of ten books, or sylvas, an idea which has often been imitated in other countries, but generally confined within the limits of a song. At the end of the last sylva he makes the poets give specimens of their art, and assures us that many equalled Tasso, and even approached Ariosto himself; a proof that this celebrated Spanish poet gave the preference to the latter. After long disputes for the Laurel, the controversy at length ends, as controver sies in Spain are apt to do, in the interference of the government ; and Apollo agrees to refer the ques tion to Philip IV., whose decision, either from reserve in the judge, or from modesty in the relator, who was himself a party concerned, is nor recorded. Facts however prove that our poet could be no loser by this change of tribunal. He continued to publish plays and poems, and to receive every remuneration that adulation and generosity could bestow, till the year 1635, when religious thoughts had rendered him so hypochondriac that he could hardly be considered as in full possession of his understanding. On the 22d of August, which was Friday, he felt himself more than usually oppressed in spirits and weak with age; but he was so much more anxious about the health of his soul than of his body, that he would not avail himself of the privilege privilege to which his infirmities entitled him, of eating meat; and even resumed the flagellation, to which he had accustomed himself, with more than usual severity. This discipline is supposed to have hastened his death. He fell ill on that night, and having passed the necessary ceremonies with excessive devotion, he expired on Monday the 26th of August, 1635. "The sensation produced by his death, was, if possible, more astonishing than the reverence in which he was held while living. The splendour of his funeral, which was conducted at the charge of the most munificent of his patrons, the duke of Sesa, the number and language of the sermons on that occasion, the competition of poets of all countries in celebrating his genius and lamenting his loss, are unparalleled in the annals of poetry, and perhaps scarcely equalled in those of royalty itself. The ceremonies attending his interment continued for nine days. The priests described him as a saint in his life, and represented his superiority over the classics in poetry as great as that of the religion which he professed was over the heathen." B MEMOIRS Of Dr. JOHN CLARK. [From Dr. FENWICK'S SKETCH of his PROFESSIONAL LIFE.] OUT little is known of Dr. Clark's early years. His father, Mr. William Clark, was a respectable farmer at Graden in the parish of Roxburgh, at which place John, the subject of this memoir, was born in May 1744. Mr. William Clark had seven sons, (of which John was the eldest,) and three daughters. "John was first sent to school at Linton, and afterwards removed to the grammar-school at Kelso about the year 1755, where Mr. Dobie, a respectable teacher and good classical scholar, was at that time master. In that situation he remained till 1760. His studious disposition, and the great progress he made in learning, determined his father to educate him for the church, and he was accordingly removed for that purpose, in 1760, to the university of Edinburgh. These views were, however, unsuccessful. Whether his natural turn of mind led him to prefer the study of nature to abstract researches, or he received the bias from the character of the university, where the medical department is so justly pre-eminent, young Clark took no pleasure in the study of divinity, but expressed so strong and steady a predilection for medicine, that his father was induced to comply with his inclination. But this determination and his son's studies were unfortunately interrupted by the accident of a slate falling from a house, and wounding him on the head; which gave rise to very severe head-achs, and general ner vous complaints, and was soon followed by a disordered state of the organs of digestion; a disease from which he was destined to suffer through life. Under these cireum. stances stances Mr. Clark returned to Gra- friends solicited and obtained for den in the year 1761. "As soon as he had recovered his health sufficiently, he was, at his own request, bound an apprentice to a Mr. Watson, at that time settled in Kelso, and who had been for many years a surgeon in the navy. From this we may conclude that his views were not then directed to that branch of the med cal profession in which he afterwards becare so distinguished. It is not known how long he remained with Mr. Watson; but there is reason to suppose that he did not leave him till the autumn of 1766, when he returned to Edinburgh to pursue his medical studies. "By his diligence and abilities he there attracted the notice of the late Dr. Gregory, at that time professor of the practice of physic; a man not more distinguished by his professional talents, than by his private worth, and by his just discernment and generous protection of merit. The countenance of so eminent a man was in itself highly honourable and advantageous to a young student; but Dr. Gregory does not appear to have confined himself to mere approbation, but to have assisted him with his advice, and interested himself in his wel fare with the activity of a friend. Mr. Clark had but too soon occasion for his professional assistance. The complaints in his stomach, which attacked him soon after the accident before mentioned, now increased to an alarming degree, aggravated most probably by his sedentary life and close application; and as they resisted all the remedies employed by Dr. Gregory to subdue them, he recommended it to Mr. Clark, as a last resource, to try the effects of a warm climate. In consequence of this advice, Mr. Clark's him an appointment, as surgeon's mate, in the East India company's service-a situation in which, with the advantage of a warm climate, he enjoyed that of an opportunity of obtaining medical experience; nor can it be doubted, from his father's circumstances and the nume rous family he had to support, that the acquirement of an immediate provision was also a material object with him. I have not been able to learn the precise time of Mr Clark's leaving Edinburgh; but it is cer tain that he attended a course of medical lectures in London, before he entered on his appointment, as surgeon's mate, on board the Talbot Indiaman. In London he secured the good opinion of the celebrated Dr. William Hunter; and he often, through life, expressed his gratitude to him, for admitting him to his lectures without paying the usual fees. He knew how to estimate the spirit in which Dr. Hunter granted that indulgence, nor would his grateful disposition allow him to forget or depreciate any obligation, however small. It seems to me that such actions should not pass unnoticed: it is honourable to a young person to be thought worthy the patronage of eminent men; while, as proofs of their desire to encourage merit, such incidents, however trifling, reflect additional lustre on their abilities. "On the 22d of March, 1768, the Talbot sailed from the Downs, and, after touching at St. Augustin's Bay in the island of Madagascar, anchored at Culpee, in the river of Bengal, on the 25th of August. In this situation the ship remained till the 22d of March, 1769; on which day, precisely a year after leaving the Downs, she began her voyage back to England. Mr. Clark, |