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Geh hin zu ihren schönen händen!
Durch dich, mein glücke zu vollenden,
Sey ihr mein treues herz erklärt!-
Umfonft! wie könnte diefs geschehen?
Wie bald, wie bald wirft du vergehen,
Da ewig meine liebe währt!

TO A VIOLET.

Imitated from the two firft Stanzas of the preceding POEM.

HO' from thy bank of velvet torn,

T

Hang not, fair flower, thy drooping creft;

On Delia's bofom fhalt thou find

A fofter fweeter bed of reft.

Tho' from mild Zephyr's kifs no more
Ambrofial balms thou shalt inhale,
Her gentle breath, whene'er fhe fighs,
Shall fan thee with a purer gale.

But thou be grateful for that blifs

For which in vain a thousand burn,
Ad, as thou ftealeft sweets from her,
Give back thy choicest in return.

From ODE XVII. of "Expoftulatory Odes to a great Duke and a little
Lord, by PETER PINDAR, Efq."

J

UST one word more, my Lords, before we part

Do not vow vengeance on the tuneful art;

'Tis very dang'rous to attack a poet

Alfo ridiculous-the end would show it.

Though not to write-to read I hear you're able :-
Read, then, and learn instruction from a fable.

The PIG and MAGPIE. A Fable.

Cocking his tail, a faucy prig,

A Magpie hopp'd upon a Pig,

To pull fome hair, forfooth, to line his neft;
And with fuch eafe began the hair attack,-
As thinking the fee fimple of the back

Was by himself, and not the Pig, possest.
The boar look'd up as thunder black to Mag,
Who, fquinting down on him like an arch wag,
Inform'd Mynheer fome briftles must be torn ;
Then bufy went to work, not nicely culling;
Got a good handfome beakfull by good pulling,
And flew without a "Thank ye" to his thorn.

The

The Pig fet up a difmal yelling;

Follow'd the robber to his dwelling,

Who, like a fool, had built it midst a bramble:
In manfully he fallied, full of might,
Determin'd to obtain his right,

And 'midft the bushes now began to scramble.

He drove the Magpie, tore his neft to rags,
And, happy on the downfal, pour'd his brags:
But ere he from the brambles came, alack!
His ears and eyes were miferably torn,
His bleeding hide in fuch a plight forlorn,
He could not count ten hairs upon his back.

This is a pretty tale, my Lords, and pat
To folks like you, fo clever, verbum fat.

Account

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Account of Books
of Books for 1789.

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Britain hath been many years most fuccefsfully engaged in delineating the infinitely varied fcenery of his native country, as it prefented itfelf to him in its moft fublime and beautiful forms, of mountain, wood, lake, river, fea views, a continually diverfified level, and what gives the most enchanting effect to the whole, that exquifite verdure, conveying the united ideas of beauty and fertility, in which refpect it fhines unrivalled by any other climate. The powers of his pen and pencil have been combined in illuftrating a fubject fo worthy of them, and it is hard to determine, whether the skill of the artist has been more happily difplayed in Sketching objects, than the tafte of the writer in the energy and perfpicuity of his verbal delineation. There fubfifts undoubtedly a ftrict analogy between the arts of painting and fine writing-he who admires one, has invariably an exquifite relifh of the other. Of the mutual light and reciprocal affistance they may afford each other, our author has given us

a ftriking inftance in his remarks, at p. 18. "Language," he obferves, "like light, is a medium; and the true philofophic ftyle, like light from a north window, exhibits objects clearly and diftinctly, without foliciting attention to itfelf." In painting fubjects of amusement indeed, language may gild fomewhat more, and colour with the dies

of more importance than entertainment, though you cannot throw too ftrong a light, you fhould carefully avoid a coloured one. The style of fome writers refembles a bright light placed between the eye and the thing to be looked at; the light fhews itfelf, and hides the object; and it must be allowed, the execution of fome painters is as impertinent as the ftyle of fuch writers.

Mr. Gilpin, by the extent and variety of his claffical learning, hath been enabled to open the great ftorehoufe of picturefque defcription, which the Greek and Roman poets have fo amply fupplied, more eminently Homer and Virgil, who were never fo delightfully engaged as in painting the fublimity and fimplicity of nature.

But though the fcientific painter, and all whole taste has been culti vated on the true principles of the art, have long known how to appreciate the value of Mr. Gilpin's works, and have long acknowledged their confummate merit: it must be confeffed that the author appeals,

with great difadvantage to the ordinary opinion of the public, who are contented to admire, without difcrimination, general objects of beauty, as affording equal fources of amufement-while the eye, well practifed in the art, is pleafed only with things as they are properly difpofed for the pencil, and examines the face of nature only by the rules of painting, the ordinary reader, accustomed to derive exquifite relish from a general furvey of things, was offended to be told, that his views were mildirected, and his fenfations of nature's beauty, false and ill-founded, that he muft not judge of beauty till he is grown fcientific, and has formed his acquired tafte, by artificial rules, dictated by his inftructor.-In the order of things perhaps thefe effays, which chiefly contain a fummary of fcientific principles, might, with more propriety, have preceded the publication of his tours, which prefent a practical illuftration of thefe principles by example-he might previously and gradually have unfolded his defign, and prepared the eye to furvey proper objects in their due pofitions and lights-he might thus have easily obviated much mifconception and much prejudice refulting from it.

The purport of the firft eflay is to mark the diftinguishing characteriftic of fuch beautiful objects as are fuited to the pencil. To avoid confufion, and correct mifapprehenfion, he holds it neceffary to feparate what is fimply beautiful, from what is ftrictly picturefque-that which pleases the eye in its natural state, from that which has a quality capable of being illustrated in painting. Ideas of beauty vary with the object and the eye of the spectator, and

thofe artificial forms are the most beautiful to each eye respectively, which are most habitual. The fonemafon admires a well-jointed wall, which the architect overlooks. As there exifts a real difference between the beautiful and the picturefque, it is worth while to inquire what is that quality in the conftitution of objects which particularly marks them as picturefque.-The real object affords one fource of beauty in that fpecies of elegance we call Smooth or neat; we fee it in the polish of the marble and glitter of the filver, and in the brightnefs of the mahogany, as if the eye delighted to glide fmoothly over the object. But in picturesque reprefentation he rejects neat and Imooth from any pretenfions to beauty; on the contrary, he makes roughness or ruggednefs the effential difference of the beautiful picturefque, and contends that this particular quality makes the object pleafing in painting, whether it be in the outline and bark of a tree, or in the rude fummit and craggy fides of a mountain. Apply this theory to experience. Introduce the moft elegant piece of Palladian architecture into a picture, and it becomes a formal object. To give it picturefque beauty, you break it into heaps of ruin; inftead of Imooth, you make it rough, and it becomes picturelque. The human form in a quiejcent state, admits of high beauty; yet when it is agitated with paífion, and its muscles wollen with ftrong exertion, the frame is then thewn to great advantage, and becomes picturesque; we admire the Laocoon more than the Antigonus-we admire the horfe as a real object, his elegant form and his gloffy coat; but in the picture of Berghem, you still more admire the worn-out cart-horse, whole harder

lines and rougher coat better exprefs the graces of the pencil. The lion, with his rough mane, the briftly boar, the ruffled plumage of the eagle, are all objects of this fort. It is not for the greater cafe of execution, as fome fuppofe, that the artift prefers the rough to the fmooth object; his compofition requires it. If the hiftory painter threw all his draperies fmooth over his figures, his groups would be very awkward. In landfcape painting fmcoth objects would produce no compofition at all. Variety and contraft too he finds in rough objects, and none at all in the fmooth the effect of light and fhade, the richness of a furface and the catching light, all refult from rough objects.-Thefe only give the advantage of colouring, while fmooth bodies afford an uniform colour as well as furface. Not that we are to exclude every idea of smoothness from picturefque beauty. The fmooth lake, the marmoreum æquor we acknowledge to be picturefque, though it fubfifts more in reality than appearance. Were the lake fpread on the convas in one fimple hue, it would be a dull object; to the eye it appears broken by various fhades, by the undulations of water and the reflection of rough objects around it --it is in fact chiefly picturefquc by contraft, as the beauty of an old head is improved by the fmoothnefs of the bald pate.-If we afk why the quality of roughneís makes the effential difference between the beautiful and the picturesque; after a variety of conjectures, the author fhrinks from the inveftigation. We are baffled in our fearch after firft principles: "in philofophy, in phyfics, in metaphyfics, and even in the polite arts, the inquiry is equally vague we are puzzled and bewil

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dered, but not informed."—It appears, that Sir J. Reynolds, in his letter to Mr. Gilpin, understood the term picturesque as fynonymous with tale, and fo applicable to Rubens and the Venetian school, not to Raphael or Michael Angelo; as it might be applied to Pope and Prior, and not to Homer and Milton.-Mr. Gilpin ufes it merely to denote fuch objects as are proper fubjects for painting, the cartoons or a flower piece being, according to his definition, 'equally burlesque.

In treating of picture que travel, in the second effay, he confiders, firft, its object, and then its fources of amufement.—Its object is beauty of every kind, either in art or nature; but chiefly of the fpecies laft confidered.-The picturesque traveller purfues it through the fcenery of nature, and tries it by the rules of painting; he feeks it among all the ingredients of landscape, which, in themfelves, are infinitely varied; they are varied, fecondly, by combinations, and again almoft as much by lights and fhades, and other aerial effects.-Sometimes they exhibit a whole, but oftener only beautiful parts. Sublimity alone does not make an object of picturefque, it muft neceffarily be connected with fome degree of beauty, as the ocean, unaccompanied by circumftances, lofes its fublime character.-The curious fantaftic forms of nature, the fpiry pinnacle and caftle-like rock, do not pleafe the pictureique eye: it is fond of the fimplicity of nature, and fees mof beauty in her moft ufual forms: the Giants' Caufeway ftrikes as a novelty, the lake of Killarney gives delight: it would repofe in the fweet value of Switzer land, but glances only through the glacieres of Savoy. But it examines

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