And stricken steel; for, in this noxious chasm,
Such dense, and sulphurous fumes exhale, as touch'd
By lighted torch, would instant fire the air,
And wrap the caverns in continuous blaze."

Juliana awaking in the Cavern.

-"See, from yon crag she bends,

And lifts her drowsy lids, that hang like clouds
Over the brimming ocean, when the sun
First peeps from the blue wave."

"And canst thou then, thou poor afflicted creature,
Root from thine heart the sense of crowding sorrows;
Long days of hope deferr'd, and nights of weeping,
With all the aches, and sick'nings of the soul;
Canst thou forget these pangs, and on a stranger
Waste generous comfort?"

"When I behold thee

Environ'd by dim forms, pent in the gloom
Of these abrupt, unorganized caverns,
Mid fierce vicissitudes of heat, and cold,
And sublimated vapours, thy meek carriage
Schools me to patience."

"Scarce can I pierce the air with labouring eye,
Such misty darkness reigns ;-yet, near yon rock,
Where drops the lingering stream, a form I see
That rests incumbent on a wrenching mattock,
And seems entranc'd in melancholy thought."

"Hast thou not sat

Motionless, while he delv'd the rifted rock?
Or, when he sunk beneath the sultry toil,
Brought the cool beverage, and, with gentle hand,

Wip'd from his pallid front faint nature's dew?—
Then, as he slept, hast thou not stol'n towards him,
And hung in silent gaze o'er his wan cheek,
That on the chill stone rested?"

"I fain would do so,

And ever in my prayers remember patience;
For hope of better days attends the good,
And virtue, like the wild-bee, can extract,
E'en from the bitter plant, adversity,
Sweet food to cheer the spirit."

Cannot this plenitude of beautiful sentiment, imagery, and description, induce men of taste unanimously to decree the palm of distinguished genius to their author? For my part, I am more and more charmed with the Mine, though I hinted to Mr Hayley, that I thought it had some flat speeches, and several needlessly inharmonious lines; that it might have been more pathetic; and that the language of Conrad had too much purity and tenderness for his licentious character, his villainous designs, the murky scene, and unprotected situation of her whom he endeavours to seduce.

The first speech in blank verse of the Gnome is perfectly Miltonic; and I scarce know heroic rhymes more sublime than the ensuing :

"Of hoary fens exalt the stagnant breath,

And load the passing gale with plagues and death!

Thro' yelling gulfs outrageous whirlwinds urge,
Or curl the tossing pool with fiery surge!
Bid flaming cataracts round Vesuvius glow,
Bid Hecla thunder thro' incumbent snow!
From Cotopasci's heights the deluge pour,
And melt a thousand winters' frozen store !
Beneath the main expansive vapours raise,
And with metallic embers feed the blaze,
Till the black vortex of the water boils,
And Ocean wonders at his new-form'd isles!"

But perhaps I ought to beg your pardon for thus drenching you perforce with Heliconian dews, springing up at Lavington, the seat of this other bard of Sussex, the emulous friend of the celebrated Hayley. My heart was in the subject, and the midnight clock has struck in vain.Adieu !

LETTER XIII.

Rev. T. S. WHALLEY, then on the Continent.

Lichfield, April 7, 1785.

SURELY, dear friend, you do not reason like yourself upon the subject of literary fame, when

it is become posthumous; since, however improbable it may be, that its blaze,, or its cessation, can be an object of attention to the beatified spirit, whose exertions, while on earth, had produced it; so far, at least, an object of attention as inspiring, or gratifying vanity or ambition; yet, if we retain any consciousness of what passed, and yet passes on earth, when ourselves have soared above it, the consciousness of being remembered with esteem and honour by our fellow-creatures on the score of virtuous compositions, will probably prove a source of delight, worthy to be admitted into the number of angelic gratifications. Grateful to the purest nature must be the consciousness that we had employed the talents committed to our cultivation, in alleviating sorrow and care in our fellow creatures, by compositions that soften, refine, and exalt the human mind; that foster its gentleness, and strengthen its virtue. There surely can be no degradation of angelic dignity, in the belief that it will have pleasure in perceiving that the fruits of its earthly industry continue to inspire virtuous pleasure through passing generations. That charming poem, Edwy and Edilda, so justly styled, by the Monthly Review, a domestic epic poem, is eminently calculated to improve and delight the mind of youth; and I repeat my exhortations, that you will re

publish it with its new termination, so much more consonant to poetic justice, and the gratification of the reader.

You quote Madam Genlis. Do you not object to her system concerning the choice of books for young people? She wishes that authors of first-rate excellence should be withheld from our youth, during those fresh and vivid years, when the perceptions are in their first poignancy.

I differ from her totally. Whatever books are put into the hands of sensible ingenious young people, between the age of twelve and eighteen, will, I am convinced, fix their taste in reading. A work of mediocrity, if it is in any degree interesting, will, during that lively interval, inspire more delight, than can be produced by compositions of a far higher class, when the first fine edge of the feelings is taken off. The mind always acquires a fond predilection for that species of writing which had borne away the early fruits of its ripening sensibilities. It is therefore of the utmost importance to the future strength of intellect, that the literary taste in opening youth be set high.

What a treasure is your last letter! How completely does it place us in scenery so inevitably dear to a poetic imagination! As late you shewed me the calm, so now you make me see the