I will sing with rapture of the blossom of whiteness! Gracey, the young and beautiful woman, who bore away the palm of excellence in sweet manners and accomplishments, from all the fair ones of the provinces."

“Whoever enjoys her constant society, no apprehension of any ill can assail him. The queen of soft and winning mind and manners, with her fair branching tresses flowing in ringlets."

"Her side like alabaster, and her neck like the swan, and her countenance like the sun in summer. How blest is it for him who is promised, as riches, to be united to her, the branch of fair curling tendrils."

"Sweet and pleasant is your lovely conversation. bright and sparkling your blue eyes!—and every day do I hear all tongues declare your praises, and how gracefully your bright tresses wave down your neck!"

"I say to the Maid of youthful mildness, that her voice and her converse are sweeter than the songs of the birds! There is no delight or charm that imagination can conceive but what is found ever attendant on Gracey."

"Her teeth arranged in beautiful order, and her locks flowing in soft waving curls! But though it delights me to sing of thy charms, I must quit my theme!- -With a sincere heart 1 fill to thy health."

The reader will easily perceive that in this literal translation, I have not sought for elegance of expression, my only object being to put it in his power to judge how closely my version has adhered to my original.

SONG

FOR MABLE KELLY.

The youth whom fav'ring Heaven's decree

To join his fate, my fair! with thee,
And see that lovely head of thine,

With fondness on his arm recline.

No thought but joy can fill his mind,
Nor any care can entrance find,
Nor sickness hurt, nor terror shake,-
And death will spare him, for thy sake!

For the bright flowing of thy hair,
That decks a face so heavenly fair;

And a fair form to match that face,
The rival of the Cygnet's grace.

Then with calm dignity she moves,
Where the clear stream her hue improves :
Where she her snowy bosom laves,
And floats, majestic, on the waves.

Grace gave thy form, in beauty gay,
And rang'd thy teeth in bright array;
All tongues with joy thy praises tell,
And love delights with thee to dwell.
To thee harmonious powers belong,
That add to verse the charms of song;
Soft melody to numbers join,
And make the poet half divine.

As when the softly blushing rose
Close by some neighbouring lilly grows;
Such is the glow thy cheeks diffuse,
And such their bright and blended hues !

The timid lustre of thine *
eye,

With nature's purest tints can vie;
With the sweet blue-bell's azure gem,
That droops upon its modest stem!

The poets of Ierne's plains,

To thee devote their choicest strains;
And oft their harps for thee are strung,
And oft thy matchless charms are sung:

Thy voice, that binds the list'ning soul,-
That can the wildest rage controul :
Bid the fierce crane its powers obey,

And charm him from his finney prey.

*It is generally believed that Carolan "remembered no impression of colours."-But I cannot acquiesce in this opinion: I think it must have been formed without sufficient grounds, for how was it possible that his descriptions could be thus glowing without he retained the clearest recollection, and the most animated ideas of every beauty that sight can convey to the mind,

Nor doubt I of its wond'rous art,
Nor hear with unimpassion'd heart?
Thy health, thy beauties,ever dear?
Oft crown my glass with sweetest cheer.

Since the fam'd fair of ancient days,
Whom bards and worlds conspir'd to praise,
Not one like thee has since appear'd,
Like thee, to every heart endear'd

How blest the bard, O lovely maid!
To find thee in thy charms array'd !-
Thy pearly teeth,-thy flowing hair,-
Thy neck beyond the cyguet, fair!-

As when the simple birds, at night,
Fly round the torch's fatal light,-
Wild, and with extacy elate,
Unconscious of approaching fate :

So the soft splendours of thy face,
And thy fair form's enchanting grace,
Allure to death, unwary love,

And thousands the bright ruin prove!

Ev'n he whose hapless eyes * no ray
Admit from beauty's cheering day,
Yet, though he cannot see the light,
He feels it warm, and knows it bright:

In beauty, talents, taste refin'd,
And all the graces of the mind,
In all unmatch'd thy charms remain,
Nor meet a rival on the plain.

Thy slender foot,-thine azure eye,-
Thy smiling lip, of scarlet dye,-
Thy tapering hand, so soft and fair,-

The bright redundance of thy hair!

* Every reader of taste or feeling must surely be struck with the beauty of this passage.-Can any thing be more elegant or more pathetic, than the manner in which Carolan alludes to his want of sight!-but, indeed, his little pieces abound in all the riches of na tural genius.

The little dogs and all; Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. SHAKSPEARE.

MR. CONDUCTOR,

I certainly expected to have finished my Apology before my arguments had been condemned; but, Sir, here is a most furious wight, calling himself PHILOGRAphicus. who has become the advocate of Mr. Landseer, and has passed sentence upon me before he has known the extent of my crimes, or what I might say in extenuation of them. He accuses me of illiberal attacks on the professional character of Mr. Landseer; of insidious, ungenerous, and uncalled for conduct; of being an assassin, of malevolent designs, of stigmatizing innocence, of falsehood, &c. &c. charges surely sufficient for any moderate man: But not content with these, he goes further; "Your correspondent also would be thought a distinguished artist." Then he accuses me of inculcating that the chalk manner is the superior mode of engraving: In another place he says, "and as admirable as your correspondent would insinuate his own performances to be." These, sir, are fair and literal extracts, and in justice to myself they should not pass unnoticed.

What has already been written of the " Apology" is before your readers, and a reference to it will prove that there is not one word said upon the superiority of the chalk manner of engraving, nor an insinuation, or direct pretension to ability in the writer as an artist; nor are the value of his works as an engraver even glanced at

* How modestly the poet here introduces a prophecy of his future reputation for genius!

or mentioned in any way whatever. From assertions, he gets to suspicions; "If (says he) he were some wretched dotter of the lowest class, who was fearful of being left out of employ, he could not shew more anxiety that Mr. Landseer and all the world should join in his anthem of Glory be to thee, O Dot!" Against malevolence of this nature innocence is no protection, nor ought we to be surprised that the man who can make assertions in direct violation of truth, should propagate the basest surmises; and I leave it to your readers to determine whether the disgraceful epithets this writer has so lavishly bestowed. upon me, are not justly applicable to himself; his suspicions can never be registered to my account, for I might with equal justice be condemned for being a highwayman, or ridiculed for being a conjuror. This "Monsieur Cobweb," who "frets himself too much in the action," however goes on with his suspicions, and supposes that I may be able to "prove to the satisfaction of persons of the purest taste, that Woollett ought to have dotted after Wilson, and ought to have dotted the Death of General Wolfe, and the Battle of la Hogue". On what foundation those conjectures are supported, I know not, nor am I answerable for them. I declare my opinion to be, that the Clytie, Circumcision, Silence, Deploma, the Wolfe and la Hogue are so finely engraved that I should be sorry to see the attempt to execute them in any other mode of Engraving whatever.

With an equal regard to truth, this writer has accused me of invading the peaceful abodes of studious retirement. Has this snap-dragon forgot who threw the first stone? Were the base and ungenerous attacks of the lecturer, the parson, or the printseller, on the Chalk Manner, I say, where these, or the Apology, first laid before the public. Is defence, invasion? If I have followed "the assailant into his own trenches" and given "blow for blow," the unmanly aggressions of my antagonists will be my justification; for a spirited support of just rights will never stamp the character of a "bad man." Had Philographicus employed his pen against the Chalk Engravers, for so long suffering their profession to be degraded and themselves injured without resistance, I would have been amongst the first to assist him in an endeavour to shame their indolence, or pusilanimity.

Having noticed more of the assertions and suppositions