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ODE TO FEAR.

MR. Collins, who had often determined to apply himself to dramatic poetry, feems here, with the fame view, to have addreffed one of the principal powers of the drama, and to implore that mighty influence fhe had given to the genius of Shakespeare: "Hither again thy fury deal,

Teach me but once like him to feel :
His cyprefs-wreath my meed decree,
And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee!"

In the construction of this nervous ode the author has fhewn equal power of judgment and imagination. Nothing can be more striking, than the violent and abrupt abbreviation of the measure in the fifth and fixth verfes, when he feels the strong influences of the power he invokes :

"Ah Fear! ah frantic Fear!

I fee, I fee thee near."

The writer of thefe obfervations has met with nothing in the fame fpecies of poetry, either in his own, or in any other language, equal in all respects to the following description of Dan ger.

"Danger, whose limbs of giant-mould,

What mortal eye can fix'd behold?

Who ftalks his round, an hideous form,
Howling amidst the midnight ftorm,
Or throws him on the ridgy steep

Of fome loose, hanging rock to fleep."

It is impoffible to contemplate the image, conveyed in the two laft verses, without thofe emotions of terror it was intended to excite. It has moreover the entire advantage of novelty to recommend it; for there is too much originality in all the cir eumstances to fuppofe that the author had in his eye that defcripson of the penal fituation of Catiline in the ninth Æneid:

-Te, Catilina, minaci

Pendentem fcopulo

The archetype of the English poet's idea was in nature, and pro-
bably, to her alone he was indebted for the thought. From her
likewise he derived that magnificence of conception, that horri.
ble grandeur of imagery, displayed in the following lines:
“And those the fiends, who near allied,

O'er Nature's wounds, and wrecks prefide;
While Vengeance, in the lurid air,
Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare;

On whom that ravening Brood of fate,

Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait."

That nutritive enthusiasm, which cherishes the feeds of poetry, and which is indeed the only foil, wherein they will grow to perfection, lays open the mind to all the influences of fiction. A paffion for whatever is greatly wild, or magnificent in the works of nature, feduces the imagination to attend to all, that is extravagant, however unnatural. Milton was notoriously fond of high romance and gothic diableries, and Collins, who in genius and enthusiasm bore no very distant resemblance to Milton, was wholly carried away by the fame attachments.

"Be mine to read the visions old,

Which thy awakening bards have told;
And, left thou meet my blasted view,

HOLD EACH STRANGE TALE DEVOUTLY TRUE."

"On that thrice hallow'd eve," &c.

There is an old traditionary superstition, that on St. Mark's eve the forms of all fuch perfons, as fhall die within the ensuing year, make their folemn entry into the churches of their respective parishes, without their heads.

ODE TO SIMPLICITY.

THE measure of the ancient ballad feems to have been chofen for this ode, on account of the subject, and it has indeed an air of fimplicity not altogether unaffecting.

"By all the honey'd store

On Hybla's thymy shore

;

By all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear,

By her, whofe love-lorn wo,

In evening mufings flow,

Sooth'd sweetly fad Electra's poet's ear."

This allegorical imagery of the honey'd store, the blooms, and mingled murmurs of Hybla, alluding to the sweetness and beauty of the attic poetry, has the finest and the happiest effect. Yet poffibly it will bear a queftion, whether the ancient Greek tragedians had a general claim to fimplicity in any thing more than in the plans of their drama. Their language, at least, was infinitely metaphorical; yet it must be owned, that they justly copied nature and the paffions, and fo far certainly they were entitled to the palm of true fimplicity. The following most beautiful speech of Polynices will be a monument of this, as long as poetry fhall laft.

πολυδακρυς δ' αφιχμην

9'

Χρόνιος ιδων μελάθρα, και βωμός θεων,
Γυμνασια 5' όισιν ενετράφης, Δίρκης θ' ύδωρ.
Ων 8 δικαίως ἀπελαθεις, ξενην πολιν

Ναιω, δι όσσων όμμ' έχων δακρυροῦν.

Αλλ' (εκ γαρ άλγος άλγος) αν σε δερκομαι

Καρα ξυρηκες, και πεπλός μελαγχιμες

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"But ftaid to fing alone

To one distinguish'd throne."

EURIP.

The poet cuts off the prevalence of Simplicity among the Romans with the reign of Auguftus, and indeed, it did not continue much longer; most of the compofitions, after that date, giving into falfe and artificial ornament.

"No more in hall, or bower,

The paffions own thy power,

Love, only love, her forceless numbers mean."

In these lines the writings of the provencial poets are principally alluded to, in which fimplicity is generally facrificed to the rhapsodies of romantic love.

(To be continued.)

THE ANTHOLOGY.

Original Poetry.

AN ELEGY.

AT winter's voice, while nature faints,
And fullen clouds her grief conceal,
The gloomy scenes, that memory paints,
Delights unheeded now reveal.

While fpring with joyous mufic wakes

The fwooning plain and hill appall'd;
Their glee the penfive mind forfakes,
To times of former blifs recall'd.

There mourning fancy flies to greet

The fhades of joys, now brightest shown; There life difplays her charms complete, And beauteous forms exult alone.

Fain memory loves the shining hours,

That gleam on life's bewilder'd way;
And still relumes the gladden'd bowers,
When scenes of wo from fight decay.
Yet fhe, while fortune's gifts delight,
And friends belov'd rejoice around,
Forebodes these joys, by speedy flight,
Will in her view alone be found.

The fweeteft raptures, while enjoy'd,
Are ftill with bitter cares combin'd;
Who feeks for pleasures unannoy'd,
Muft oft feverer anguish find.

Gay hope, to diftant realms of joy
Allures our ever willing view;
From good poffefs'd her wiles decoy,
And we her fleeting boon pursue.
R

Vol. I. No. 3.

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ON the billowy deep of diftrefs,

A wild courfe I was doom'd to purfue;-
Still my reach the bold furges reprefs
From the fhores, that rejoice within view.
To the mercilefs ftorm I muft bend;
But the combat will never refign;
To the port yet in hope will I tend,
And with forrow no longer repine.
Though the wind with inclemency raves,
Yet, by turns, the keen malice expires;
Then a flumber alights on the waves,
And defpair, with her fhadow, retires.
Though affliction and toil are my doom,
Yet their weight I was form'd to fuftain;
I can grope through my path, though in gloom,-
Why then fhould I ever complain?

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