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• In the moral system, it is a part of the wise arrangements of providence, that no member shall suffer alone, that if the lower classes are involved in wretchedness and beggary, the more elevated shall not enjoy their prosperity unimpaired. That constitution of society is radically unsound, of which the inferior order is vicious and miserable: a wretched and degraded populace is a rent in the foun. dation; or, if we may be allowed to change the figure, a taint of rotienness at the root of society which will infallibly wither and decay its remotest branches. Alarming as the present aspect of affairs unquestionably is, the most appalling feature of the times is the prevailing discontent of the lower orders, discontent arising not so much from the infusion of speculative principles as from the impression of actual distress. Alleviate their distress, convince them at least of your solicitude to do it, and you extirpate the seeds of disaffection far more effectually, than by all the arts of intimidation. But if an insensibility to their sufferings in the higher ranks, goads them to despair, nourishes an appetite for change, and prepares them to lend themselves to the sophistry of artful demagogues and unprincipled empirics; what will be the consequence but a divided and distracted empire, where, instead of uniting to consolidate the resources of general prosperity, the necessity of employing one part of the nation in the coercion, or punishment of the other, dissipates its efforts and cripples its energy? We have the highest authority for asserting that a “ kingdom divided against itself cannot stand," and surely no schism in the body politic can be more fatal, than that which alienates the bands from the head, the physical strength of society from its presiding intellect.' pp. 14, 15.

After having enforced the various considerations which we have briefly pointed out, as he draws near to the close of his address, this eloquent Pleader breaks forth into the following splendid and affecting appeal.

· Waiving for the present the consideration of the tendency of the measure in question to promotė the welfare of the nation, the writer, of these lines must be permitted to avow his attachment to his natale solum, to the soil that gave him birth, which recalls the image of his youth, with those affecting recollections which nature longest retains and reluctantly quits. The philanthropy which affects to feel alike for every part of mankind, is false and spurious: that alone is genuine which glows with a warmtli proportioned to the nearness of its objects. But who that is not utterly devoid of such sentiments, can compare the present condition of this county with the past, without deep emotion ? The writer well remembers it, when it was the abode of health and competence: a temperate and unstrained industry diffused plenty through its towns and villages; the harsh and dissonant' sound of the loom was not unpleasant to the ear, mingled with the remembrance of the activity which it indicated, and the comfort it produced; the advance of summer invited the peasant to a grateful change of labour, while the village poured forth its cheerful population to assist in preparing the tedded grass, and reap the golden harvest: content resided in its valleys, joy echoed from its hills: the distresses of poverty were almost unknown except by the idle and the profligate, its natural victims, and even the transition from peace was rather heard at a distance, than felt as a positive calamity. Some provinces, it is confessed, abounded with more splendid objects with more curious specimens of art, and grander scenes of nature; but it was surpassed by none in the general diffusion of prosperity. But what a contrast is now presented in the languid and emaciated forms, and dejected looks of the industrious mechanic, who with difficulty drags his trembling limbs over scenes where his fathers gazed with rapture, pleased with each rural sight, each rural sound. A rapid depression of wages like a gangrene preys upon their vitals and exhausts their strength. The crisis is arrived which is to decide the destiny of this part of the kingdom; its fate for the present generation, to say the least, depends under providence entirely on the success of the measure now in agitation ; and how, let me ask, can its hereditary nobility exert themselves more laudably, than by stretching forth the hand to save from ruin the county which gave them birth, and includes the fund of their wealth, the scene of their magnificence, and the sepulchre of their fathers.' pp. 15–17.

The pamphlet is anonymous. The reason assigned by its Author for the suppression of his name, is, that while it might • possibly create prejudice in some quarters, he is not aware that • it would bestow additional weight in any.' We know of no . quarter' in wbich the 'name' of Robert Hall can possibly

create prejudice :' we are persuaded that there is not any' in which it will not bestow additional weight.'

Art. XII. P. Virgilii Maronis Bucolica, Georgica, Æneis. Accedunt,

in gratiam Juventutis, Notæ quædam Anglice scriptæ. Editio secunda. Londini: in Ædibus Valpianis. 18mo. pp. 642. Price

78. 6d. bound. THIS edition of Virgil will he favourably received by Clas

sical Instructors, and will be an acquisition to the young Latin scholar. The text is printed with a letter of good size, and so far as our examination has extended, is laudably correct. The Annotations are sbort, and, with but few exceptions, confined to the elucidation of the text. Some of them are origibal, but by far the greater number are selected from the Delphia Virgil and the editions of Professors Martyn and Heyne. Phe remarks of J. H. Voss on the Eclogues and Georgics, increase the value of the Notes: they appear for the first time in an English dress. No Interpretatio is given, in which, as well as in other respects, justice is done to the pupil, who receives from the judicious Editor no assistance that can prove injurious to his real improvement.

Art. XIII. Tales, and Historic Scenes, in Verse. By Felicia He. mans, Author of "The Restoration of the Works of Art to Italy," "Modern Greece," &c. fcap. 8vo. pp. 255: London. 1819.

W
E rather too hastily pronounced "Modern Greece" to be
the production of a man of genuine talent and feeling ;'*
not being sufficiently clear sighted to perceive in it any indi-
cations of its having proceeded from a female pen. The opi-
nion of the Author's poetical abilities which we then expressed,
was honest and unbiassed; and Mrs. Hemans was not indebted
for it in any degree to our gallantry. Nor are we disposed
upon a perusal of the present volume to retract that opinion;
notwithstanding the deficiency of vigour and of compression
which is occasionally betrayed in the, longer pieces, the
volume is highly creditable to the taste, and fancy, and, we
may add, to the extensive literary information of the accom-
plished Writer. Her talents are certainly of no common order,
and they have been successfully cultivated. All the poems are
far above mediocrity, and yet the execution appears to us often
inferior to the conception of the subject, which is always truly
poetical. We select as no unfavourable specimen, the spirited
poem entitled Alaric in Italy.' It may be necessary to recal
to the recollection of some of our readers, that the Sepulchre
of Alaric was constructed in the bed of the Busentinus, the
course of which was forcibly diverted by immense labour for
the purpose; after which, the waters were restored to their na-
tural channel. The secret spot where the remains of Alaric
had been deposited, was for ever concealed by the inhuman
'massacre of the prisoners who had been employed to execute
• the work.'

6 Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blaste
The march of hosts, as Alaric pass'd?
His steps have track'd that glorious clime,
The birth-place of heroic time;

But he, in northern deserts bred,
Spared not the living from the dead,
Nor heard the voice, whose pleading cries
From temple and from tomb arise.
He pass'd-the light of, burning fanes
Hath been his torch o'er Grecian plains;
And woke they not-the brave, the free,
To guard their own Thermopyla ?
And left they not their silent dwelling,
When Scythia's note of war was swelling?
No! where the bold Three Hundred slept,
Sad freedom battled not-but wept!

Eclectic Review. N. S. Vol. X; p. 598.
G

VOL. XIII. N. S.

For nerveless then the Spartan's hand,
And Thebes could rouse no Sacred Band;
Nor one high soul from slumber broke,
When Athens own'd the northern yoke.

But was there none for thee to dare
The conflict, scorning to despair?
O city of the seven proud hills!
Whose name e'en yet the spirit thrills,
As doth a clarion's battle-call,
Didst thou too, ancient empress, fall?
Did no Camillus from the chain
Ransom thy Capitol again?

Oh! who shall tell the days to be,
No patriot rose to bleed for thee?

Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blast?
The march of hosts, as Alaric pass'd,
That fearful sound, at midnight deep,
Burst on th' eternal city's sleep :
How woke the mighty? She, whose will
So long had bid the world be still,
Her sword a sceptre, and her eye
Th' ascendant star of destiny!
She woke to view the dread array
Of Scythians rushing to their prey,
To hear her streets resound the cries
Pour'd from a thousand agonies!

While the strange light of flames, that gave A ruddy glow to Tyber's wave,

Bursting in that terrific hour

From fane and palace, dome and tower,
Reveal'd the throngs, for aid divine
Clinging to many a worshipp'd shrine;
Fierce fitful radiance wildly shed
O'er spear and sword, with carnage red,
Shone o'er the suppliant and the flying,
And kindled pyres for Romans dying.

Weep, Italy! alas! that e'er
Should tears alone thy wrongs declare !
The time hath been when thy distress
Had roused up empires for redress!
Now, her long race of glory run,
Without a combat Rome is won,
And from her plunder'd temples forth
Rush the fierce children of the north,
To share beneath more genial skies
Each joy their own rude clime denies.
'Ye who on bright Campania's shore
Bade
your fair villas rise of yore,

With all their graceful colonnades, And crystal baths, and myrtle shades, Along the blue Hesperian deep, Whose glassy waves in sunshine sleep; Beneath your olive and your vine Far other inmates now recline, And the tall plane, whose roots ye fed With rich libations duly shed,

O'er guests, unlike your vanish'd friends,
It's bowery canopy extends :

For them the southern heaven is glowing,
The bright Falernian nectar flowing;
For them the marble halls unfold,
Where nobler beings dwelt of old,
Whose children for barbarian lords
Touch the sweet lyre's resounding chords,
Or wreaths of Pæstan roses t wine,
To crown the sons of Elbe and Rhine.

'Yet though luxurious they repose
Beneath Corinthian porticoes,
While round them into being start,
The marvels of triumphant art;
Oh! not for them hath genius given
To Parian stone the fire of heaven,
Enshrining in the forms he wrought
A bright eternity of thought.
In vain the natives of the skies
In breathing marble round them rise,
And sculptured nymphs, of fount or glade,
People the dark-green laurel shade;
Cold are the conqueror's heart and eye
To visions of divinity;

And rude his hand which dares deface
The models of immortal grace.

' Arouse ye from your soft delights!
Chieftains! the war-note's call invites;
And other lands must yet be won,
And other deeds of havoc done.
Warriors! your flowery bondage break,
Sons of the stormy north, awake!

'The barks are launching from the steep,
Soon shall the Isle of Ceres weep,
And Afric's burning winds afar
Waft the shrill sounds of Alaric's war.
Where shall his race of victory close?
When shall the ravaged earth repose?
But hark! what wildly mingling cries
From Scy.bia's camp tumultuous rise?