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Original Letter of Paul Jones. “ Had the Earl been on board the Ran- my life also, with cheerfulness-if that ger, the following evening, he would have forfeiture would restore peace and goodleen the awful pomp and dreadful carnage will among mankind. of a sea engagement; both atfording ample “ As the feelings of your gentle heart subjects for the pencil, as well as melan- 'cannot, in that refpe&t, but be congenial choly reflection for the contemplative with mine, let me intreat yoii, Madam, mind.-Humanitý starts back at fuch to use your felf-persuasive arts with your feenes of horror, and cannot but execrate husband, to endeavour to stop this cruel the vile promoters of this detested war. and destructive war, in which Britain For they, 'twas they unheath'd the ruthless never can succeed. Heaven can never blade,

countenance the barbarous and unmanly And heav'n shall ask the hayock it has made, practices of the Britons in America, • The British ship of war Drake, if not discontinued, will soon be retali

which savages would blush at, and which, mounting zo guns, with more than her complement of men, besides a number of ated in Britain, by a juftly enraged peovolunteers, came out from Carrickfergus, ple. Should you fail in this (for I am in order to attack and take the continen: persuaded you will attempt it, and who tal ship Ranger, of 18 guns, and short

can resist the power of such an advocate ?) of her complement of officers and men.

endeavours to effect a general ex

your The ships met, and the advantage was

change of prisoners will be an act of disputed with great fortitude on each side, humanity, which will afford you galder for an hour and five minutes, when the feelings on a death-bed. gallant commander of the Drake fell, and closed; but, should it continue, I wage

I hope this cruel contest will soon be victory declared in favour of the Ranger. His amiable lieutenant lay mortally

no war with the fair! I acknowledge their wounded, besides near forty of the inferior power, and bend before it with profound

fübmifsion! Let not, therefore, the ami. officers and crew killed and wounded.

able Countess of Selkirk regard me as an A melancholy demonstration of the uncertainty of human prospects, and of the enemy: I am ambitious of her esteem

and friendship, and would do any thing fad reverse of fortune, which an hour can

consistent with my duty, to merit it. produce. I buried them in a spacious

“ The honour of a line from your hand, grave, with the honours due to the me

in answer to this, will lay me under a mory of the brave.

« Though I have drawn my sword in very fingular obligation. And, if I the present generous struggle for the

can render you any acceptable service in rights of men, yet I am not in arms

France, or elsewhere, I hope you fee into merely as an American, nor am I in pur, without the least grain of reserve. !

character so far as to command me fuit of riches. My fortune is liberal with to know exactly the behaviour of enough, having no wife nor family, and having lived long enough to know, that many people, as I am determined to punith riches cannot ensure happiness. I

them, if they have exceeded their liberty..

profefs myself a citizen of the world, totally esteem, and with profound respect; Ma.

" I have the honour to be, with much unfettered by the little mean diftinétions of climate or country, which diminish dam, your most obedient, and most hum

ble servant, the benevolence of the heart, and set

(Signed)

J. P. Jones. bounds to philanthropy. Before the war

Ranger, Brest, 8th May, 1778." began, I had, at an early time of life, withdrawn from the service, in favour of Note, It is a well known fact, that at the “ calm contemplation and poetic ease." fale, he purchafed the plate, and returned I have facrificed not only my favourite scheme of life, but the fafter affections of the whole that had been carried away, to the the heart, and my prospects of domestic Countess of Selkirk; not the most trilling mappiness; and I am ready to facrifice article being milling. D.F.R.S.

FROM

[ 285 )

FROM MY PORT-FOLIO.

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No. VIII.

COXE's SWITZERLAND.
WILLIAM WHISTON.

(Communicated.)
(Communicated.)
R. Whifton was a man diftinguished

account of Switzerland, a singular in,

As dom of speech. He had some acquaint practical politics are far more interesting

commonwealth of the Grisons. ance with bishopSherlock,and occationally than theoretic, it became an object to went to dine with him. But the bishop point out, and obviate that inconsistency; made a speech in the House of Lords, especially as it is injurious to the cause of which was understood to be an apology for

freedom. the employment of bribery and corruption

I use the edition of 1789, 3 vols. 8vo. on the part of government ; and then in vol, iii. p. 232, et seq. he gives what Whifton visited him no more. They afterwards met

accidentally, at may be called facts and reafons, to prove

that corruption and aristocratic indiu. the house of Sir Jofeph Jekyll, master of

ence alone diminith factions, and prevent the rolls, when the bilhop asked Whiston, anarchy, even in to poor a country as that what the reason was that he did not come of the Grisons, and in a republic scarcely sometimes to dine with him as usual ? known

among the nations of Europe. “ No, my lord," said Whiston, “ never

The reader is deeply impressed with knce your political speech in the House this truth, till he comes so far on as p.278, of Lords." The bilhop replied, that where the mystery is folved, tefte invito. Mr. Whifton knew that he took his

“ At present, the House of Austria direproofs patiently, and he was desirous rects all the affairs of the Grisons with that he should come to him as fórmerly: the most unbounded authority. That “No, my lord,” faid Whifton, “ political bishops are the ruin of all religion :" ly discharging the public penfions, by

power has acquired this fway, by regularand he immediatcly went away in ap- holding the leading members of the diet parent indignation. When Dr. Leng was made a bishop, Valteline, and inediator in all the disputes

in its pay, by being a guarantee of the the first time that Mr. Whilton law hin, between the Grisons and their subjects." after he was raised to the bench, he said

Where is now Mr. Coxe's candour ? to him, “ I wonder, my loril, how fo He might as well argue, that, because learned and so good a man as you are,

our Edward IV. Henry VIII. Charles II. came to be made a bishop."

were penfioned by France, no monarchy Of Dr. Gibson, bishop of London,

can exist without foreign pensions. Whifton faid, " that bishop seemned to

Is it not rather a piece of jesuitical art, think, that the church of England, as it

to place this main intelligence at fo great just then happened to be, established by

a distance from its proper place, and real modern laws and canons, came down point of view? In fact, it is not preju. from heaven, with the Athanasian creed dice, but repeated obfervation, which in its hand."

leads me to say, that, in the writings of all The then bishop of Durham, in a eceleliaitics (with very few exceptions), converfation with Whiston, expressed a

one meets with specimens of jesuitism. doubt to him, whether the Linus, who They are fo accustomed to deceivē, that

s mentioned in St. Paul's epistle to they practice ait in spite of themselves, as Timothy, could possibly be the hihop it were, and even in trifles and indifferent of Roine, as he was supposed to be,

obje&s. when he was only spoken of as of the brethren." Whiston replied, FIELDING and Swift. “ bishops, my lord, were not then right reverend fathers in God"

OME

ractor of original invention at rather Man, Whifton faid, "He has always a cheap rate; they have had the art of appeared to me one of the best bishops appearing to exhibit a great fecundity of of our modern ages; and fo much the imagination, throughout an entire work; better, as he is clear of the inares and

when, temptations of a lord of parliament."

one

Speaking of Dr. Willon, bishop of SOME, writers have obtained the cha

286

Literary Fecundity. when, in reality, the real merit of its in LITERARY FECUNDITY. vention is contained in a few of its earliest W Ecles of literary Fecundity. Lope chapters; while the remaining parts of these works have been formed with great de Vega, whose entire days seem to have facility, and without any extraordinary been devoted to composition, without efforts of genius. I thall exemplify this many hours given to reading ; or what is observation by the two celebrated works equally necessary, to the correction of his of Fielding and Swift. The former, in own productions, did not rival the indehis Life of Jonathan Wild the Great,fatigable powers of father Macedo, a Poroffers a very curious fpecimen of the tuguele Jefuit, not without celebrity in force of irony. He calls vilainy,“ great- his day. The Portuguese biographer ness;” a prig, or thief, “ a hero ; " nar: counts 109 different works of this auratives of swindlers,“ matters of the great thor; and, indeed, one camiot refrain kind;" honeft ingenuous persons, "filly from a smile at the good old man himself, people;” and when they trust to sharp- who, in one of his later works, boasts of ers, he says, “ they are little wretches; having delivered in public, 53 PANEGYwho deal with great men." Heartfree is RICS; 60 LATIN ESSAYS, and 32 FUtherefore full of “ low and base ideas;" NERAL EULOGIUMS: and that he had his faithful apprentice " is a low and composed 48 EPIC POEMS; 123 ELEpitiful fool," &c. It is evident, that

GIES; 115 EPITAPHS ; 212 DEDICAthe only merit to which this invention of TIONS ; 700 FAMILIAR LETTERS ; reversing terms and ideas can pretend, 2600 HEROIC POEMS; 110 ODES ; consists in the first thoughts—having once 3000 EPIGRAMS; 4 LATIN PLAYS, exhibited them, all the rest is merely a and that he had (being gifted with the tarepetition of the same notions; and al- lent of an improvisatore) delivered more though the whole may appear, to a super- than 150,000 VERSES. extempore ! ficial reader, as originality, a critic of It is sufficiently obvious, that Father taste will surely acknowledge, that it is Macedo was the prince of impertinent not what it appears, and that it becomes, writers; and that he was one of those, at length, if we may so express our whose unhappy industry produces a most felves, invention without invention. barren fertility. What is, however, not Fielding having once displayed the man-' lels fingular in our Jesuit, was, that ner, any common writer could have fol- having written a treatise againit Cardinal lowed it without any exertion ; and what Norris, on the subject of the monkery of a coinmon writer can perform, is evidently St. Austin, it was thought neceflary to not a work of genius.

decree filence to both parties. Macedo, The fame observation will extend to compelled to relinquish the pen, resolved « Gulliver's Travels.'' When Swift to Thew the world that he did not consider had once resolved to describe a very di- himself as vanquished, and sent his adminutive, and a very gigantic race; men verfary a challenge! He proceeded acas horses, and horses as men; the idea, cording to the regulations of chivalry; whatever be its value, after it has been and appointed a place of rendezvous in fully displayed, becoines, like the irony the wood of Boulogne. Another edict, bf Fielding, nothing but a continuation; to forbid the duel. Macedo complained a kind of plagiarism on the author him- that it was hard, not to suffer him, for the felf. The real merit of such inventions sake of St. Austin, for whom he had a is foon terminated; yet an author, by pur- peculiar esteem, to spill neither his ink, fuing them, will seeni, to inost of his nor his blood! readers, as abounding in the most fertile One may judge of his taste by his imagination ; while he, in fact, is only " Origin of the Inquisition.That hu. repeating one idea, with, very frequently, mane and divine tribunal he discovers to deither novelty nor variation. The Ya- have been in the terrestrial paradise. He hoos and Houyhnhmns have, in my opi- pretends to prove, that God was the first nion, no invention at all, unless to call a who began the functions of an INQUISIhorse a man fhews any invention. TOR, and that he exercised his power

This observation will not extend to the over Cain, and the workmen of Babel. other merits of these admired perform- Macedo obtained a professor's chair at ances; for others they have, ofà much Padua, for having given, during eight more durable kind than the extrava- days, at Venice, some famous arguments gance of their merely reversing our usual against the Pope, which were published notions.

by the title of The Literary Roarings of the Lion at St. Mark:” alluding to the lion whole mouch is now clofed.

(287) ORIGINAL POETRY.

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On Miss LINWOOD's admirable Pictures in

No time can heal. Oh! I've for ever loft
Needle-work.

My first, my early, and my only love.

Dear source of comfort! thou art now no more; WHEN Egypt's sons, a rude untutor'd

Thou wast the loft'ner of my ev'ry care; race, Learn's with wild forms 'the obelisk to grace,

My friend, my sweet companion, and my all. And mould the idol God in ductile earth,

What can to me existence now endear, The loom and polish'd needle took their birth.

Since chearfalnefs and healthwith thee are fled,

And peace and hope are strangers to my breaft? When doom'd to dull obscurity no more, My limbs, late active and alert, refift Fair Science reign'd on each surrounding ihore, The dictates of my will, and trembling, scarce And stretch'd her arm o'er Greece and early Have pow'r to bear from earth my tott'ring Rome,

frame. Still in her train appear’d the labours of the loom,

Oh, what an effort did I lately make,

When with distress o'erwhelm'd, and anguish When Gothic night o'erwhelm'd the chearful

keen, day,

I gain'd th' afcent, where rested what remain'd And sculpture, painting, all neglected lay,

Of her I lov'da solemn flence reign'd,
And furious man, creation's savage lord,
Knew but the hunter's spear, the murd’rer's

And gloomy darkness mark'd the cheerless

spot;

Save through a crevice onesmall streaming ray, Our fofter fex emboss'd the 'broider'd vest, Which glimm’ring shone to guide me to her In fow'ry robe the blooming hero dreft;

bed. Or rang din tap'ítry’s glowing colours bright There once again, and once, atas! for all, The mimic crests, and long embattled fight. With weeping eyes I view'd that face and Now Learning's better fun-beam shone anew,

form, And Gothic horrors, gloomy night, withdrew; On which, with rapture, oft I us’d to gaze; Again Prometheus wak'd the senseless clay,

That face and form which {poke a graceful Grace, beauty, order, Teapt to second day.

ease, Most did the manly arts its influence feel,

Sweetinnocence and peace, and all those charms

Of female softnefs, tenderness, and trùth, The pencil chas'd the housewife's humbler

Which please the eye, and captivate the soul. fteel; Rent was the aged tap’stry from the wall;

But now, alas! how chang'd, what rüin Exulting genius gloried in its fall;

dire Tomonftrous shapes, and hydra forms uncouth,

Hath in thort time been wrought! the tyrant

death Succeeded nature fair, angelic truth; The artist man awoke the victor's lay,

Struck, and subdu'd his prey, her tender And woman's labours crumbled in decay.

frame,

Refiftance weak could make, and down the Then LINWOOD rose, inspir'd at once to give

funk The matchless grace that bids the picture live; Insensiblc—a vi&im to his pow'r. With the bold air, the lovely lasting dye,

Her pallid cheeks had lost that glow of health
That fills at once, and charms the wond'ring They late and long .bad worn-clos’d wère

eye. :
Hail? better Amazon, to thee belong

That us’d so sweet to smile; still was that
The critic's plaudits, and the poet's song:

voice To thee may fame no barren laurels bring,

Which oft melodious charm'd the liftning But now'ry wreaths, that bud each riêng But it will Charm no more, nor will her smiles spring!

L. A.

Relieve that heart that low'd with fond excess.

How much from this sad lofs I have endur'd,
Lines on the DEATH of a WIFE. Ye only who have lov'd like me, can lay.
COME, penfive Melancholy; thou who could fighs, or tears, or pray’rs, have ought
Thun'st

avail'd,
The bufy haunts of men; 'tis thee I woo. She furely had not dy'd—for never did
Come, calm the tumults of a mind disturb’d: They cale, e'er since the time she felt a pain;
Thee will I cherish as a welcome guest,

Protulely have the tcars of sorrow flow'd,
And freely, in some lone retreat, indulge.

Sighs have succeeded lighs, and pray’rs to

Heav'n
The gloom of grief. Unnotic'd and unknown,
Complaints were yain, since none can yield Been breath'd but God, who life bestow'd,
relief;

faw fit
Yet tears may tell the fuff'rings I endure, Her state to change, and took her to hinifcif.
And ease rat weight of woe which wounds so In frer, religion wore its fairest furiu,
deep

Рp

And Month. Mag. No. XXX,

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How in my heart the holds hier wonted place: HUSH'D in the filent grave, thy sorrows

And all the milder virtues were display'd ; By Jobnson snatch'd from death's oblivious Good was her heart, and she was fit for bliss.

night ; Oh can I e'er forget, when, from the For him who fixt, in glowing colours bright, world

Those smiles that wont the passing hours ta Retir’d, in converse sweet our days we past!

cheer, How ott to heav'n the pray'd to make me bleft,

And gave, unchanging still from year to And grateful prais’d, and thank'd me for my The form ador'd to bless your longing fight;

love, My constant care, and mark'd attentions O heave the grateful sympathetic ligh: Mewn,

But fighs recal not back the filent dead! All from the heart bestow'd, to smooth her An aged mother, by his labours fed, path,

Looks round in vain, and fees no comfort To guard her steps, and make her pleas'd

nigh; with life.

0, then, reflect his virtues to her view,

And be to her what Johnson was to you.
No pleasing cares do now my mind employ;
In mournful inuling creep the heavy hours :
Scenes of past pleasure, ne'er to be renew'd,

ELEGY
By mem'ry's aid in quick succession rise,
Whilft all the future wears an aspect dark.

On the death of a Young Lady, who died in a

state of lunacy: ,

deep ; May heav'n in mercy grant, that when from

No more in secret anguish to repine ! earth

And soft humanity no more shall wep I'm callid, we may united be, and know

To see the wreck of such a mind as thine. Those promised joys which God reserves for those

Ey'n he who unrelenting saw that mindWho trust his word, and strive to do his will. A father! struggle with despair in vain,

S. T. While reason's ruin'd'empire tell, consign'd

66 To blank confusion and her crazy train." SONNET.

Ev'n he, barbarian ! shall with callous heart

No more difturb the bed of thy repose ; To the EARL of BREADAL BANE.

No more shall try with ev'ry hellish art FAR from his friends, his home, and native To lengthen the sad period of thy woes! Tyne,

For now at length thy pains, thy troubles cease, The niould'ring relics of our John(011 lie !

The gloomy midnight of thy grief is o'er ; While tears of fond remembrance fill each

And on thy soul the blissful morn of peace eye,

Arises bright to be o'ercalt no more. Breadalbane, patron of the arts, be thine The envied task to rear his humble thrine,

And tho' a little space contains full well Which itill the pensive trav’ller may espy,

Thy peerless form, with ev'ry beauty blert, Where limpid Tay meand'ring murmurs by, Without one “ frail memorial” to tell And woods and rocks tadorn his tomb The palling trav’ller where thy ashes rest; combine.

Yet, to thy mem'ry, many a sacred tear The scene, congenial to his classic taste, Shall now, with many å sympathetic figh; His shade, appeas'd, shall often' hover And on soft pity's heart, to virtue dear round,

Thy name thall be engraven-ne'er to die! And as the moonbeam glides along the Leeds.

W.G. ground, Review the landscape which his pencil trac’d; And ott, when kindred genius wanders

A SONNET, near,

Addressed to Miss Eliza Coltman, on receiving Receive the soothing tributary tear.

from ber a present of Mrs. Rowe's Devout

Exercises of ibe Heart, &c.
SONNET

SACRED to virtue be the gifts of fong,

Nor madly let the genuine bard diffuse On tbe Death of Robert Johnson, Painter and The dregs of Circe's cup, nor dare to wrong

Engraver, of Newcafile-upon- Tyne, who died, Meek-ey'd religion !--but may the muse, in the 26tb.zcar of his age, ui Kenmoré, near Proud of her birth, in rapt'rous trains' aspire, Taymouth, the seat of the Earl of Breadalbane, T. hallow'd themes that breath'd from wbilf employed there by bis Lordship

Rowe's pure lyre; (See Monthly Magazine, vol. 2. p. 541 and 833.)

Or your's, Eliża! when with fervent zeal

You' fing of transports angels only feel; YE who enraptur'd view, with sweet And soaring, reach the bright ætherial road, delight,

Where hymning Seraphs warm devotion The faithful semblance of relations dear,

Ihew; Or o'er some friend departed drop the tear,

Catch

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