inferior genius, to fall into the same errors. O God! how large a portion of the ills How sad the contrast 'twixt that floating scene, But one vast concave globe of radiant orbs. P. 76. The next passage is still better; it is a touching picture of those whom even hope, the last lingering comforter, which clings to the unfortunate, has deserted, and who look only for joy in death. But what a scene of joy surrounds the grave, The breach through which the pris'ner has escap'd! But the best passages in Mr. G.'s poem are in the last part, where, with the prophetic ken of the poet, he anticipates the blessings about to result from the abolition. It would be cruel, and little relevant to the purposes of poetry, to disturb this delightful vision by any intimation of the dif ficulties and even impossibilities of the glorious results which the religious bard so confidently foretells: it is our business rather to shew with what skill he has managed this poetical privilege, of dreaming golden dreams by the streams of Helicon. It was said once to a man who affected to indulge in Parnassian reveries, How dare you dream?' The question was sensible: it is not so easy to dream as many poetasters imagine, and there is as much difference between their dreams and those of a true poet, as there is between the delirious incoherences of feverish ebriety, and the transporting visions of expiring saints. Mr. G. however has not abused this privilege; he dreams well; he has no ravings, no fantastic apparitions: all is easy, tranquil, and beautiful, and is told with a delicacy and simplicity not often to be found in modern poetry. We recommend to particular notice those lines in the subsequent quotation which are marked in italics; they contain an image interesting and beautiful, and, as far as we recollect, perfectly original. It is one of the tests of a true poet to produce such an image which, while it surprizes by its novelty, charms by its genuineness and fidelity; especially when there is not the slightest appearance of effort or labour. Hail, Africa! to human rights restor❜d! Amid his children and their children opes P. 86. The next extract is a charming specimen of tasteful description, and the little concluding incident is beautifully pic turesque, and evinces a degree of elegance attainable only by the most refined minds. Already I behold the wicker dome, To Jesus consecrated, humbly rise Below the sycamore's wide-spreading boughs; P. 87. We now come to the consideration of Mr. G.'s faults, and these unfortunately are pretty numerous. Of his prosaic language, and tame thinking, we shall have occasion presently to give some examples. We shall first produce a few specimens of vile taste; they were, we suppose, intended to be remarkably striking for their simplicity. The first is when he is describing the slave-ship setting sail; this he thinks can not be better expressed than in the technical barbarism of sailors: Yo yca resounds amid the buzz confused.' Part 2, line 2. Dryden's pedantry about starboard and larboard vanishes before the absurdity of this jargon. Again, Every petty fault Is duly journaled till the wretch whose trade Is this burlesque ? Again. The refusal of a young man to flog a young female slave, who happens to bear some resemblance to the 'chere amie' of the said youth, gives rise to the following. burst of poetry: Sheer mutiny! (vociferates the wretch The self-appointed judge) haste bind him up Laid bare disclose the pausing wheels of life.' P. 74. It is needless to dwell upon the ludicrous contrast here formed by the mere prose of the first part, and the affectedly pompous diction of the latter part of this passage. A more glaring instance of this sort of folly may be seen by those who have patience to peruse the poor versification, at the end of the third book, of two or three stories taken from Dr. Pinkard's notes on the West Indies; the language in which they are conveyed being neither prose nor verse, but a sort of phraseology strutting on stilts, or prose on horseback, entirely destroys that effect, which is produced by the simple narrative of the unpretending author of the notes. One other curious affectation we cannot forbear to mention: when relating the history of some Scotchmen, he thinks it necessary to drop his English diction, and to use terms current only on the other side of the Tweed: thus we read loaning sweet;'gloamin hour;'heartsome roof;' warlock linn,' &c. &c. P. 79: As another fault we must mention the extreme carelessness with which Mr. G. measures his prose into verse. Thus sometimes we have an alexandrine, and very frequently lines ρήματα ἱπποβάμονα, with a redundant syllable-errors quite inexcusable, unless the language is glowing and poetical: we have also some unfinished lines we presume, in imitation of the hemistiches of Virgil. The following passage also is an instance of a classical simile, with a long tail, in the true homeric style, as M. Perrault would have said. Mr. G. is describing the captive negro's dream of pleasure. To clasp the child, he tries his shackled arms He hears at once and views his dreadful doom.' pp. 69, 70. We shall conclude our notice of Mr. G.'s poem with two or three instances of that regularly marshalled language which we suppose is intended for poetry. There was (almost incredible the tale) * A wretch whose lips condemn'd a mother's hands To drop her murdered infant in the deep. And yet there have been men, and still there are ** The pompous opening and important conclusion of the following passage, has all the air of a travesty: we will, however, at the expence of Mr. G.'s judgment, do so much justice to his feelings, as to assert that we believe him to be quite serious, We hope this compromise will satisfy him. Behold that far-stretch'd line Of Britain's sons in martial pomp arrayed, |