75609 GLOVER,

THE author of this play, was bred a merchant, and distinguished himself much in that character-yet in fortune he made no advances towards affluence. He was a patriot of the most independent cast, and scorning to bind himself about any one political party, was by all alike neglected.

However, there is a fame not resulting from so perishable a. means as the contention of parties, which it is alike out of their power to confer or to take away that fame will long flourish around the name of GLOVER-he was a POET.

His LEONIDAS has been illustrated by the learned commentaries of Dr. PEMBERTON, in a volume which, perhaps, best unfolds the mysteries of verse.

Mr. GLOVER was the author of two plays, both performed with much applause.

He had also projected a second part of the lat ter, not yet performed.

BOADICEA

Has more poetic than histrionic powers-The descriptive passages are extremely fine-but there is small scope for passion.

It has been well observed by a venerable Prelate, that those universal robbers, the Romans, are treated in this piece with too much respect:—the observation from the same authority is also just respecting the languor of the three first acts-the last act is bold, fine, animated diction, and the events well arranged.

PROLOGUE.

BESIDE his native Thames our poet long
Hath hung his silent harp, and hush'd his song.
Kind Commerce whisper'd, "See my blissful state,
And to no smiles but mine resign thy fate;
Beneath the pregnant branches rest a while,
Which by my culture spread this favour'd isle;
On that fair tree the fruits of ev'ry coast,
All which the Ganges and the Volga boast,
All which the sun's luxuriant beam supplies,
Or slowly ripens under frozen skies,
In mix'd variety of growth arise.
The copious leaves beneficence diffuse,
Which on affliction drops restoring dews,
And birds of hope among the loaded sprays,
Tune with enchantment their alluring lays,
To cheer despondence and th' inactive raise.
Rest here, she cry'd, and smiling time again
May string the lyre, and I approve the strain."
At length his muse from exile he recalls,
Urg'd by his patrons in Augusta's walls.
Those gen'rous traders, who alike sustain
Their nation's glory on th' obedient main,
And bounteous raise affliction's drooping train ;

They, who benignant to his toils afford
Their shelt'ring favour, have his muse restor’d.
They in her future fame will justly share,
But her disgrace herself must singly bear;
Calm hours of learned leisure they have giv'n,
And could no more, for genius is from heav'n.
To open now her long-hid roll she tries,
Where vary'd forms of pictur'd passions rise.
Revenge and pride their furies first unfold,
By artless virtue fatally controll'd.

Scenes, wrought with gentler pencils, then succeed,
Where love persuades a faithful wife to bleed;
Where, join'd to public cares, domestic woe
Is seen from manly fortitude to flow.
But if her colours mock the candid eye

By spurious tinels, unmix'd with nature's dye,
Ye friendly hands, restrain your fruitless aid,
And with just censure let her labours fade.