THERE is nothing more contemptible, than that gossipping disposition, which delights in hearing and repeating little tales of slander and ill-nature. What is wonderful, is, that persons of any sense should give credence to the ridiculous stories in circulation. For my own part, I make it a standing rule never to believe any report to the disadvantage of a friend or acquaintance, upon the mere assertion of an indifferent person. I have always found, on examination, that the story is either entirely false, or else so disguised and exaggerated, as to be widely distant from the real truth. Ned Worthy is one of the best fellows in the world. Whenever he enters, there is a smile of satisfaction on every face in the room. As he is in easy circumstances, he once paid the tax of a wealthy bachelor, in being called on to maintain a child not his own. Ned immediately gained the reputation, particularly among his female friends, of being a man of gallantry. It was no sooner known that Ned was engaged to a fine woman, than the child began to multiply; and the future Mrs. Worthy is actually threatened, on her marriage, to be presented with no less than TWELVE ILLEGITIMATE CHILDREN. The story of the black crows is no longer a fable. It was currently reported, and at last confidently affirmed, that, on Thursday last, Will Careless was caught in bed with Mrs. B. The whole Exchange was alive, and every insurance-office electrified with the intelligence. You would have thought, that some important news had arrived from Europe; that Bonaparte had arrived at Petersburgh, or that the French had been cut up piece-meal. On inquiry, it was discovered, that Mrs. B. was on that day in the country with her family, and that Will had not yet returned from Philadelphia, whither he had gone some time since on business. Miss Prudelia Prim, it was said, was actually delivered of coloured twins. It turned out, on investigation, that miss Prudy's lap-dog had brought her two black puppies. speak with unwilling emphasis, but unaffected hesitation, when I assert, if my own ears are not absolutely unattuned to the mellifluous cadence of poetick numbers, the structure of Mr. Cowper's verse is harsh, broken, and inharmonious, to a degree inconceivable in a writer of so much original and intrinsick excellence. His fidelity to his author is, however, entitled to unreserved praise, and proclaims the accuracy and intelligence of a critical proficient in his language. The true sense of Homer, and the character of his phraseology, may be seen in Mr. Cowper's version to more advantage, beyond all comparison, than in any other translation whatsoever within the compass of my knowledge. His epithets are frequently combined after the Greek manner, which our language happily admits, with singular dexterity and complete success. His diction is grand, copious, energetick, and diversified, full fraught with every em bellishment of poetick phraseology. His turns of expression are, on many occasions, hit off with most ingenious felicity; and there are specimens of native simplicity also in his performance, that place him at least on a level with his author, and vindicate his title, in this respect, to superiority over all his predecessors in this arduous and most painful enterprize. Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, has spoken of Mr. Cowper's translation with an unfeeling petulance, with an insolent dogmatism, perfectly congenial to that rash and audacious censor.' Notwithstanding this panegyrick, Boswell's opinion seems to be that of the publick, and the insolent dogmatism of an audacious censor' is not inapplicable to Gilbert himself, with all his learning and abilities, which are readily acknowledged to have been great and uncommon. The accuracy of his judgment and the firmness of his taste are points more questionable. ORIGINAL POETRY. For the Anthology. [Hoc jucundum carmen scriptum fuisse dicitur A. D. 1742: et, a Sam. Johnson, in vita, inter optima ingenii facinora poetæ nostri numeratur. Hujus carminis figuram ab Horatio, car. 35, lib. 1, captam esse, non negatum est ; quanquam longe viribus, in opere sequente, Romano noster Anglus antepone. retur.-Multa certe micantia, quæ in Anglicano carmine apparent, in his meis Latinis versibus, sive non reperiuntur, sive dubie coruscant.] CARMEN THOMÆ GRAY, IN ADVERSITATEM, LATINIS VERSIBUS redditum. O, soboles magni Jovis! O, tu ferrea virgo! Turgentes animis, qui sunt in sede superbo, Et curis lugent, fulgent et inaniter ostro. Cum natam voluit primum demittere ab alto, * Disceret illa malo ut, miserus versata, moveri. Attonitique, tuos fugiunt vultus metuendos At gradibus, tibi sunt comites, sanctisque sequuntur Oraque habens mosta, et terram in sua lumina tendens Tu, proles metuenda Deum, exaudique petentem,. Et, Deu, sume sibi blanda ora, oculosque benignos, Da mihi naturam eversam inque reducere sedem ; Et bene amare meos, ignoscere et instrue mentem. Quo vivunt alii modo, et ipsum hominem esse peractum. Hujus versus medulla extrahitur ossibus Virgilii, ut seq. "Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco." March, 1807. L. M. SARGENT "Sweet pliability of man's temper, which can at once surrender itself to illusions, that cheat expectation and time of their weary moments." GODDESS of golden dreams, whose magick power And lavish strews the visionary flower To deck life's dreary path with transient grace : I woo thee, FANGY, from thy fairy cell, And sport in happier regions, unconfined. Deep sunk, oh Goddess! in thy pleasing trance, Alas! how little do thy vot'ries guess Those rigid truths, which learned fools revere, Be 't theirs to search, where clust'ring roses grow, And catch their fragrance, where they blush unseen. Haply, my path may lie through barren vales, Nor let the worldling scoff; be his the task To form deep schemes, and mourn his hopes betray'd ; Be 't mine to range unseen, 'tis all I ask, Oh but for thee, long since the hand of care Oh come then, FANCY, and with lenient hand, And give me more than Fortune can bestow. Mix'd are the boons, and chequer'd all with ills, The cheerless valley skirts the gilded hills, Give me the hope that sickens not the heart, Give me the wish that worldlings may deride, Wrapt in thy dreams to lay the world aside, And catch a bliss beyond the reach of Fate. |